The Love Story in the Old Journals
by FictionWriter91
Summary: AU Post season 12. Brennan has decided to stop putting off the inevitable: cleaning out her father's house. When she starts going through Max's things, she comes across a hidden box at the back of his closet. Inside, she discovers her father's life spread across dozens of journals and realizes she finally gets to learn about how Max met Ruth and the truth about his family.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, I'm Fictionwriter91. You might remember me from such stories as A Change of Events, Booth & Bobby: FBI, The Love in the Heart (co-written with I Love Kol Miakelson), and The Science Teacher in the Public School. I was writing flashbacks of Max and Ruth Keenan in my next chapter of The ST in the PS, and I got this amazing idea. I won't get into details since you'll read the story below, but I thought this idea deserved it's own story (I apologize if it's been done already!). I will still do flashbacks in The ST in the PS, so don't worry! It will just be a different version than this. I'll stop talking now!**

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Brennan opened her eyes from her dream, and she felt slightly unnerved. Ever since the Jeffersonian had blown up, she was having nightmares about being trapped inside the lab forever or of never regaining her memory of how to do her job. She also would dream of her father, Max. She desperately missed him. The snuffle beside her drew her attention to her husband. She smiled at him, his face twitching with whatever dream he was having. Probably about sports. Brennan was thankful for the millionth time that she opened her heart to him and let him show her that life could be so wonderful. She looked over at the clock. It was 7:13 am. Odd. She craned her ears. Christine was normally awake by seven at the latest, something she hoped would soon get out of Christine's system. Brennan did enjoy sleeping in. Even Hank was abnormally quiet. Something was up. Brennan slipped out of bed and tiptoed to her door, listening. If both children were quiet, that usually meant someone was up to no good. Christine was a week away from being six, and Hank had just turned three, so she hoped the eldest was not influencing the youngest in any way since Christine had recently discovered that Hank would do just about anything she wanted in order to please her. It was something Brennan and Booth were working on. Brennan snuck into the kitchen, and sure enough, there was Christine standing on the wooden step Grandpa Max had made just for her so she could reach the counter. Hank was on his tiptoes beside her.

"Hurry," Hank was whispering loudly.

"Shh!" Christine ordered. "You'll wake them up and ruin the surprise!"

"Sorry," Hank whispered loudly again. Brennan craned her neck, and she noticed that Christine was making toast. Her daughter was bringing them breakfast in bed. How sweet. She watched for a moment longer before Christine hopped off the step stool and grabbed the tray, albeit a little wobbly. Brennan quickly went back into the bedroom where Booth was now snoring. She carefully climbed back under the sheets and closed her eyes. Sure enough, their bedroom door opened slowly, and she could hear the two children giggling with pleasure at their surprise. Brennan waited for them to shout out their arrival, but it didn't come right away. Instead, Hank climbed onto the end of the bed, and he leaped onto Booth's chest on his knees shrieking, "SURPRISE!" Brennan sat bolt upright while Booth's eyes shot open wide, his lungs expelled all the air at once, and his arms flailed around while he tried to get his breath back.

"Hi Mommy, hi Daddy!" Christine shouted. Brennan turned to face her. "We made you breakfast in bed! Well, it was mostly me, but Hank was the one who decided on how to wake you up."

"Hi," Hank grinned, wiggling on his Daddy's chest. Booth finally got air into his lungs and over the shock of it all.

"You little scamp!" he cried, grabbing Hank into a bear hug and making the little boy giggle even further.

"How thoughtful!" Brennan announced while Christine placed the tray onto her lap. Brennan bit back a chuckle. Some of the toast looked like they'd barely escaped a house fire. The rest looked great. She picked up one of the golden brown pieces for herself.

"This is really good, Christine. Thank you," she smiled at her daughter, who beamed with pride. Booth slid Hank off his lap and reached for one of the better looking pieces. Brennan smacked his hand away.

"Ow!" he complained.

"Christine worked hard on _all_ the toast," she said, giving him a meaningful look. Booth gave her a pleading look, which she shot down, so he gingerly picked up one of the burnt pieces, trying not to grimace.

"Mmm," he said, biting into the charcoal. "My favorite." Swallowing was proving difficult, but he managed. Christine was bouncing up and down now.

"I _knew_ you'd like it!" she cried. "See, Hank?"

"Yup," Hank agreed. He was still wriggling with excitement.

"Very good," Booth nodded. He slathered a two inch perimeter of jam onto the second charcoal piece while Brennan smiled cheekily at him while eating the best pieces.

"Juice!" Christine cried, smacking her hand to her face. She took off to get some with Hank on her heels.

"You owe me," Booth said, gesturing to his toast.

"It's not that bad I'm sure," she laughed.

"I've had better," he replied. He leaned in and planted a kiss onto her cheek before getting up.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Our son not only landed on my lungs but he landed on my bladder," Booth winced, closing the bathroom door behind him. Brennan chuckled to herself. She loved days with her family where work was not interrupting constantly.

"Here," Christine said, returning with a glass of orange juice. Brennan thanked her and sipped it.

"Don't we have the best children in the world?" Booth asked, coming out of the bathroom. He went over and scooped up Christine, tilting her upside down and making her squeal.

"Me! Me!" Hank called, bouncing around Booth's feet.

"Careful," Brennan said, smiling. Booth set down Christine and gave Hank a ride too.

"What are we doing today?" Christine asked. It was Saturday, so no school.

"I don't know," Booth answered, looking at Brennan. "What are we doing today?"

"Something I should have done a while ago," Brennan told him. He looked at her curiously. It had hit her just now, watching her family. The ache of missing her father was ever present, and she suddenly really wanted to be surrounded by all his things. She had put off tidying up his small house and listing it because she couldn't bear to lose the last piece of him, but now she saw it was time for closure. Russ would be happy.

"Really?" Booth asked, getting what she was saying. He'd wanted her to do it weeks ago, but he understood that she wasn't ready.

"Yes," she nodded. "Would you be okay with playing with the kids today?"

"Oh. Yea, of course," he agreed. He'd wanted to be there with her for support, but he guessed if she needed to do it alone...

"I know you wanted to help," Brennan said, reading his mind. Christine and Hank were now entertaining themselves with a silly face contest, so they weren't listening anymore.

"I just want you to know I'm here for you," Booth told her.

"I know," she nodded, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly. "I'll call if I need you."

"Okay."

...

Brennan was overwhelmed with emotion when she opened the door to her father's house. It was very small, just the way he liked it. She stood in the entryway, staring at her surroundings. It looked as though he'd never left. There was an open newspaper on the table and dirty dishes in the sink. She thought Russ would have been here by now, but perhaps he was respecting her decision. It was that or maybe he wasn't up to it either, and Brennan wasn't alone in the fact that she wasn't ready to say goodbye to everything yet. She had messaged Russ before coming here, but he hadn't responded yet. She walked over to the kitchen table, touching the wood and collecting a thin layer of dust on her finger. It was barely two months since Max had tragically been taken away from her. This fact was with her every day. Her phone vibrated then.

 **Are you okay?** Booth asked.

 **It feels like he's still here,** she answered.

 **I can get a sitter...**

 **No, I can do this. I have to do this.**

 **Okay. I love you.**

 **I love you too.**

Brennan put her phone down and looked at the task that was ahead of her. Where did you even start? She wasn't intending on keeping a lot of things. She would box things up and let Russ look through in case he wanted stuff, but Brennan didn't anticipate wanting much. She wandered into Max's bedroom, halting in the doorway. She was met with photos of her mother, Amy and Russ with Hayley and Emma and her, Booth, Christine and Hank everywhere. She put her hand to her mouth. Her father had obviously loved them very much. Why hadn't she ever come here before?

"Oh, Mom," she whispered, touching the framed photo of Christine Brennan smiling back at her. She hoped they were together again. Brennan took in a deep breath, and she went to the closet. Her dad's familiar scent hit her immediately, and she felt tears in her eyes. Maybe this was going to be harder than she thought. She opened the door all the way and surveyed it all. She had to start somewhere. She knelt down and started pulling things out from the back of the closet. Her hand bumped against a box that felt heavy. Curious, she dragged it out from under the blankets. What was in here that her father felt the need to conceal so well? She felt a little anxious at first, but when she opened it, all she found were dozens and dozens of leather bound journals. This was interesting. She didn't know her father was a writer. Then she almost laughed. They were probably her mother's. No way did Max keep a journal. She lifted one out and opened it. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

...

 _September 4, 1951_

 _Our English teacher is making us write in a journal like a bunch of girls. Who has time for this anyway? I don't want to write about my feelings! Oh wait, I guess I am. I'm angry, and that's a feeling. Darn it. Oh well, here goes nothing!_

 _My name is Max Keenan. I am ten years old. I just started my first day of grade five, and I'm already bored. If this is going to be an indicator of how the rest of the school year is going to go, then just shoot me already! It doesn't help that Steve changed schools. Now who am I going to play ball with? No offense to Dave, but he does not have a very good throwing arm. It's like watching a very old man trying to throw something into a garbage can that's practically next to him. Ow! Dave just hit me. I guess he was reading over my shoulder. I'm sure he's writing something nasty about me in his journal now since he's scribbling furiously. Whatever._

 _Wait! There is something I can write about. A new girl started today. Ruth Whitman. She sure is pretty. Her black hair is almost long enough to sit on! I'm trying to be cool. Walter already tried asking her to be his friend, and she shot him down flat. I don't want that to happen to me. I'll have to think of something._

 _Oh, apparently we write on a schedule, and my time is up. Well, I'll see you tomorrow!_

...

Brennan stared. She was holding her father's journals. This was her father's life. She ransacked through the box and pulled out more journals. She flipped through the dates. He had been consistently writing since he was ten years old. She sat back against the wall with a thud. In her hands, she held her father's history, and by the looks of it, how he met her mother. Without hesitating, she put the others back in the box and re-opened the one she had started. She needed to keep reading. She wanted more. This could clear up so much that she didn't know, and the only regret she had was not finding them sooner.

...

 _September 5, 1951_

 _Walter stole my lunch money again. I punched him in the nose and earned myself a note home to my parents, not that they'd really care. I can't wait until I'm older and people respect me!_

 _Okay, back to Ruth. I've been studying her, and I've learned that she has a very kind soul. She helps people when they're struggling with math or history, and she has offered other people half her lunch when their money gets stolen by Walter. She didn't offer any to me, but I think it's cos I showed her I can handle myself. Or maybe she doesn't like violence. Hmm. I might have to watch that. I want to talk to her, but I'm afraid she already thinks I'm a ruffian. That's my mother's nickname for me: ruffian. I guess it's true. I spend a lot of time out in the dirt and getting into trouble. I wonder where I learned that? Certainly not from my father. Are you getting my sarcasm here? My sister barely tolerates me. Being the oldest, she gets a lot of responsibility put on her. Luckily, she has a twin brother, so they're close. I think I was an afterthought, the kid that came by accident and disrupted the perfect family._

 _There goes the bell. My hand really hurts. Who knew that writing caused injuries like sports do?_

...

Brennan wiped tears from her eyes. It seemed her father had a hard family life. She wished she had spent more time talking to him about it. She wondered if she'd know the truth once she kept reading. It almost scared her. Her phone vibrated again.

 **Dinner out?** Booth asked.

 **Yes :)**

 **How's it going?**

 **Very good. Talk later.**

Brennan picked up the book again. She knew she was going to get lost in these. She pondered whether she should tell Booth about them or keep them her secret for a while. That was something she would think about later. Right now, she wanted to get back to her father.

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 **So what did you think? Should I bother continuing?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all for reviewing and letting me know you want more! I hope you like this chapter just as much.**

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Booth was tapping his fingers on his leg anxiously, looking at his watch. It wasn't like Brennan to be late. Angela had already come and picked up Hank and Christine, and Brennan was supposed to meet Booth there before going out for supper, if they decided to go out at all. They did need some good quality alone time. He checked his phone again-still nothing. He sighed. He went and grabbed his keys and coat and headed out the door. He imagined her buried in her father's belongings upset and unable to think clearly. He knew he should have just gone with her to begin with.

...

Brennan was still avidly reading. Her father's ten year old self kept making her laugh out loud. She briefly wondered if he was ever going to show her these when he was alive, but she shook that thought away. She took a sip of her water and turned back to the page.

...

 _September 6, 1951_

 _I wish Steve were still at this school. Pulling pranks just isn't fun without him. We also didn't get caught as much. I've been written up twice this week already. I'm supposed to take the notes home to my parents, but I just open the bus window and let the wind take it away instead. Nobody notices. Nobody cares. I'm okay with that._

 _I got this close to talking to Ruth today, but she turned just as I started to open my mouth. I had everything planned out that I was gonna say, and then I forgot. I've heard the expression "Take my breath away" before, and I'm starting to think it's a real thing. At recess today, Ruth hit the ball so hard with the bat that it went sailing out over the fence and out of bounds for us students. I couldn't believe it. I've never seen a girl play as well as her._

 _Dave keeps pulling at my sleeve. Just a minute..._

 _Ruth's tenth birthday party is next weekend! Dave just told me. I hope she invites me. I hope I'm not as socially awkward as I usually am. Man, what am I gonna say to her? Well, duh, happy birthday of course. I mean what else could I even talk to her about? She makes me so nervous._

 _Teacher's calling it a day. Just when I was getting into this entry! See you later._

...

Brennan couldn't imagine her father not knowing what to say, especially to her mom. She understood about being socially awkward though. Perhaps that is where she got it from. Her father. She read on.

...

 _September 7, 1951_

 _I got an invitation! I think she just invited everyone in her class, but I'm still excited she included me. Now, if I can just get my parents to let me go. They aren't one for celebrating stuff too much._

 _I get to see Steve this weekend. I miss him. His dad is a priest, so they had to move for his job back in August. I don't think it's fair that kids don't get a say in where they want to live. Mom promised to drive me out there tomorrow, so she better keep her word. Because Mr. Coulter is a priest, she respects him a little. That works in my favor._

 _I don't know what else to say really, so I think I'll just sit and watch Ruth write for a while._

...

"Bones?"

"Gah!" Brennan shouted, tossing the book up over her head in fright. "Booth!"

"What are you doing?" he asked, laughing. He took in all the boxes around her.

"I'm reading," she answered, searching for the journal she had chucked in her fright.

"Reading what exactly?" he questioned, picking one up from the box. He flipped it open, seeing handwriting and dates.

"My father's life," Brennan told him. He looked at her quizzically.

"He wrote these?" Booth asked, incredulous. He looked at all the books.

"Yes. It's fascinating. He started at ten years old in school. I guess he kept up the habit afterwards."

"That's amazing," Booth said in awe.

"It is. I am finally seeing a side of my father I never knew. He loved baseball!" she exclaimed, gesturing at the journal she was holding. "He met my mother in grade five. His best friend was Steve Coulter I've surmised. His parents and siblings sound like they were interesting, but he hasn't written much about them yet."

"Wow." Booth sat down beside her. She hugged the journal to her chest. "Now I understand why you're late."

"I am?" Brennan asked, looking at her watch. "Oh! I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Booth laughed. "We can still go unless you want to keep reading."

"I'll take them home with me," she said. "Let's go. I don't want to waste our alone time." She gave him a meaningful look.

"Skip dinner then?"

"Definitely."

...

Brennan slipped out of bed and padded across the floor. Booth was asleep after a very satisfying round of sex. Angela still had the kids, and Brennan wanted to read one more entry before they came back. She picked up the journal and sat on the couch.

...

 _September 10, 1951_

 _Where to start? I got to see Steve, but then Mom cut our visit short and came a day early to pick me up. Something about Dad and his mood and needing help. I was mad. The first I got to see Steve in almost three weeks and she ruined it. We had the best day planned too. Fishing, hiking, pranking... Sometimes I wish I had different parents. I know better than to complain though. My behind still hurts from making that wish a while ago in front of them. It's no use complaining to Rebecca or Ron, though. They just tattle and get me in more trouble. At twelve, they think they're untouchable._

 _I can't believe I wasted ten minutes writing about my dumb family. I have better things to write about, like Ruth. I think I might be making an impression on her. Today, I got a smile out of her when I made a face behind our boring teacher's back. Then Walter ratted me out, and now I've got another note to dispose of. The teacher's system doesn't work cos they don't check up on whether or not my parents actually read the note. I think it's just to make them feel like they're doing something._

 _Dave wants to throw ball after school. He says he's getting better. I disagree, but I don't wanna crush him. It's nice to dream, and who am I to take that from him? Gotta go. Gettin' the stink eye from Teacher cos everyone's stopped writing but me._

...

"So what does ten year old Max do?" Booth asked. "Rob kids of their school money?"

"Very funny," Brennan replied. "Actually, he's the one who gets robbed sometimes."

"Really."

"Yes."

"That's interesting."

Brennan had just put the children to bed and was joining Booth in their bedroom. She hadn't wanted to put down the journal, but she didn't want Christine asking questions just yet. Once in bed, Booth reached over and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"You all right?" he asked.

"Sometimes," she answered truthfully. "I really miss him. Reading these...it makes me feel like he's talking to me."

"That's comforting."

"It is. I'm a little worried about what I'm going to find out. I remember Dad saying Mom was his only family."

"I guess you'll get there eventually."

"Yes. I guess I will."

...

Sunday morning started as usual, but Booth sensed that Brennan wanted to be alone to read, so he took the kids outside to play. Brennan could hear them laughing as Booth played some game where he was chasing them. She watched for a moment, capturing this special bonding that was happening. It gave her flashbacks to when her father used to chase her and Russ around. Russ. He hadn't answered her message yesterday. She double checked. She didn't want to share the journals just yet, so if he didn't respond, then she would just leave it be. She flipped open the book again. The spine was starting to feel cracked from being open too much, but Brennan guessed it was like that before she started reading it.

...

 _September 14, 1951_

 _I missed school cos I was sick. I feel better today, but I'm still weak. Mom thinks it was influenza. I say it was just a bad cold. Mom does tend to be a bit dramatic. She didn't want me to come today, but I had to. I had to prove that I was well enough to attend school so I can go to Ruth's party tomorrow. I have to be there. Dave is giving me a ten meter perimeter cos he's scared he's gonna get sick. I'd love to just spit on him and get it over with. Honestly. I wasn't the only one who got it. Walter isn't here either. Rebecca caught it from me, and I'm sure Ron will get it too since they're so tight. Mom said we better hope Dad doesn't get it. We can't afford not to have him work. It sounded a little threatening to me, but good boys who want to go to birthday parties don't back talk._

 _My ribs are sore from coughing. Guess I won't be playing ball today at recess. That'll make the boys mad. I'm the best, and they know it. They don't want to lose to the older kids. I don't blame them. They make us do ridiculous dares when we lose. One guy made Dave streak across the front of the school. Good thing the teachers were on lunch. I'm pretty sure he would have been suspended._

 _That's all for today. Gotta start looking healthier. Big day tomorrow!_

...

"Mommy!" Christine hollered, racing into the living room. "Hank isn't playing fair!"

"Hank is three, sweetie," Brennan reminded her. "Just remind him of the rules."

"Daddy is making them up," Christine pouted.

"Then I'm afraid I can't help you," Brennan laughed. Booth popped his head inside.

"Okay, you can be the princess, but Hank still gets to be your little prince brother," he said.

"Fine," Christine sighed loudly, running back out. Booth winked at her. She had to give him credit. Playing Castle was tedious. She looked at the clock. It was almost time for lunch, so she put down the book. She'd get back to it later. She felt excited for her dad. He was going to finally talk to Ruth. It was almost funny that she was thinking this way since she already knew they got married. Brennan could hardly wait to read more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for your kind reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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"You're in an awful hurry to get rid of us," Booth teased as Brennan rushed around cleaning up after lunch. Hank was hanging off of Booth's leg and giggling while Christine was bouncing around calling for him to hurry up.

"I'm sorry," Brennan replied, looking at him. "I don't mean to."

"It's okay," he laughed. "I know you want to get back to your Dad."

"Thanks for understanding, Booth," she smiled.

"It's what I do," he grinned. He leaned in to give her a kiss before grabbing Hank and throwing him over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes.

"Oh no! The Dragon is coming!" Christine shrieked, bolting out the door in front of him while Booth roared and growled as he chased after her. Brennan shook her head, laughing. Then she went to sit and read again when her phone went off.

 **Did you find anything good at the house?** Russ asked. Brennan hesitated, her thumbs hovering over her keyboard. She wanted to finish these books first before giving them to Russ. Maybe that made her selfish, but she wanted this alone time with her father first.

 **Not really** , she answered. It was a bit of a lie, but she'd tell him later once she had a few to give him. She got comfortable on the couch and opened the journal again, eager to see how her mother's birthday party went.

...

 _September 17, 1951_

 _I wish I could say I had the best weekend ever, that I was allowed to go to Ruth's party, but I can't. All I can say is, my family sucks. Rebecca was so sick that Mom took her to the hospital Friday night. Ron was crying nonstop about being in pain when he wasn't actually sick (a twin thing I guess). Dad got mad at him for crying and gave him a whupping. I tried to stay out of the way, but on Saturday morning when I was supposed to be getting ready for a party, I got told I was not going. I'll admit, I lost my temper. Rule #1 in my family is: Don't ever yell at your father. Let's just say this, I looked at the world with only one eye all day Sunday. Today it's open, but things are a little blurry still. Teachers give me looks, but they don't ask. They assume I got into a fight with another kid my age. Boy, I wish they were right. Maybe then it'd be fair. The only good thing that came out of it was Ruth noticed and actually talked to me. This is what happened:_

 _"Max, what happened to your eye?" she asked._

 _"I fell," I lied. She gave me a look in response that said she didn't believe me._

 _"It looks like it hurts," she said instead._

 _"Eh," I shrugged. "I'm more sorry that I missed your party."_

 _"Don't be. It wasn't all that fun."_

 _"I would have made it fun."_

 _"I would have loved to have seen you try," she smiled. Smiled! I got a smile out of her. Anyway, she walked away after that, and I felt like I was walking on air. Black eye and all._

 _Pencils away!_

...

Brennan felt her heart twist. Her grandfather was an abusive man? She felt bad for her father then. She had no idea. He'd never talked about his family before. Maybe that was why. She went to read the next entry and found just doodling. She flipped a few more pages until she found writing again. It was almost three weeks later.

...

 _October 8, 1951_

 _You're probably wondering why it took so long for me to write again. I just didn't feel like it. I had nothing to say. Things at home are the same. Things at school are the same. Things with Ruth are the same. Nothing is different. I'm writing today because Dave almost got beat up bad, and all for just wearing a hat that Vince wanted to have. I've been lucky to not run into Vince too often. He's older than me by about three years. He'll be going to high school after this year, so I won't have to see him anymore. He terrorizes a lot of kids, and I'm lucky enough to be able to escape his attention the majority of the time. He makes Walter seem harmless._

 _I should add that Rebecca is okay. I realize my last entry made it sound like she was almost dying. Turned out she just needed her appendix removed. She's been sucking up that attention for the last three weeks though. It's getting annoying. I think a good old fashioned prank would perk her up, but I don't feel like having the punishment afterwards._

 _And that's all the time we have folks!_

 _October 10, 1951_

 _Teacher caught me doodling and said I have to write. She was "very disappointed with me" and had to let the whole class know about it. Maybe I don't feel like sharing my thoughts. They aren't that woop-de-doo you know._

 _Ruth sat with me at lunch today. That is worth mentioning. She even shared her dessert. I am not a huge fan of pineapple upside down cake, but I didn't want to turn down her offer either. I can hide my gagging better than I can handle her rejected face. Ruth wanted to know if I could teach her to pitch. She admitted she is better at the bat than throwing the ball, so I agreed to help her at recess. Needless to say, I have some ball sized bruises on my shins right now. Girl has no aim. We have a lot of work to do._

 _Aaaaand time's up._

...

"Mommy?" Hank said, interrupting Brennan's reading. She lowered the journal and put her attention on her son.

"Yes?"

"Can you come play? Daddy is getting out of control," he said. Brennan bit back a laugh. Her son was so articulate with his speech. She was glad he picked that up from her.

"Okay," she agreed. "I'll come play." She set down the journal and went outside where Booth was on his hands and knees barking.

"You can't be a dragon and then a dog," Christine complained. "That's not how it works!"

"Why not? I'm a shape shifter," Booth argued good naturedly.

"Booth, what are you doing?" Brennan asked, laughing.

"Trying to mix it up out here, but I'm not getting good reviews," Booth joked.

"Mommy's here!" Christine shouted gleefully. "Come on! You're the Queen and I'm your Princess."

"Who are Hank and Daddy?" Brennan asked, stepping into the structure that was deemed The Castle.

"Hank is the stolen Prince, and Daddy is the Dragon," Christine answered.

"Did the Dragon take the Prince?"

"No. He's just guarding him."

"Hmmm. What shall we do?!" Brennan cried, getting into character.

"Call the Dragon Slayer!" Aubrey shouted, jumping into view. Christine cheered.

"Dragon Slayer?" Booth repeated.

"Yea," Aubrey nodded.

"What are you doing here, Aubrey?" Brennan asked.

"I thought I'd swing by and see what my favorite people were up to," Aubrey answered.

"Save my baby brother!" Christine cried, pointing at Hank, who was curled up in a ball under the wooden swing.

"I'm on it!" Aubrey called.

"Watch out for the Dragon!" Christine shrieked as Booth launched himself onto Aubrey and brought him down.

"Aaarrgghh!" Aubrey shouted.

"Oh no!" Brennan cried, still in character.

"Quick! We must help!" Christine shouted, rushing over where Booth was pretend mauling Aubrey to death. Christine and Brennan jumped onto Booth's back, making him growl in response. Aubrey pulled himself free.

"I'm coming, Hank!" Aubrey shouted.

"You have to ride the swing so he'll be set free!" Christine called after him. Aubrey sat on the swing and pulled it ahead a little so Hank could run away before starting to pump his legs.

"Mommy!" Hank yelled to Brennan, who picked him up and swung him around.

"Hurry before the Dragon comes!" Christine cried, running back to their Castle while Booth chased them and Aubrey chased after Booth wielding a pretend sword. When he caught up to Booth, he pretended to impale him, making Booth come up with some interesting dying sounds. Brennan couldn't stop laughing. She loved days like this. She loved playing with her children and doing make believe. She loved her life. She just wished her father were here too.

...

"That was nice of Aubrey to bring us a dessert," Brennan said once it was nighttime and the kids were asleep. Booth was brushing his teeth.

"It was. Nice of him to eat half of it too," he laughed between brushing.

"I'm amazed he isn't fat," Brennan commented. Booth snorted. Then he went to spit and rinse.

"Hollow legs," he said after. "I remember that time of my life."

"You are not out of shape at all," Brennan said appreciatively.

"Oh I know. I also know I can't just eat like a pig without repercussions," he joked. He crawled into bed beside her. "Any more interesting tales in your father's book?"

"He's teaching my mother how to throw a baseball," Brennan answered.

"How's that going?"

"Not so well apparently."

"I didn't know Max was such an avid baseball player," Booth said.

"I didn't either."

"Well, don't stay up too late," he said, giving her a kiss before turning over onto his side to fall asleep. Brennan sat with her lamp on, reading.

...

 _October 12, 1951_

 _Ha Haaa! I skipped a day of writing and didn't get caught. It's Friday. That means Dad will either come home in a good mood or a really bad mood. The way Mom fights with him sometimes is scary, but it doesn't happen a lot. I know he drinks. She tries so hard to show everyone that we are this perfect family, and I don't blame her. I wouldn't want to be judged either. I do my best to stay out of the way and be helpful, but even then I sometimes still get caught in the middle. My mother looks at me sometimes with this look that I can't describe. I don't know what it is. Disdain? Fear? It's confusing. I hate weekends sometimes. I miss Steve. We'd be out exploring if he was here. Dave gets too scared to do that. He's a bit of a Mama's boy._

 _Not much else to write. Happy weekend, journal._

 _October 15, 1951_

 _A boring weekend. That's a good thing really. Dad even was sober for half of it. He and Mom went out Saturday night, leaving us kids home alone. They thought the twins could be trusted. Ha! Ron found Mom's stash of chocolate and ate it all while Rebecca put on Mom's makeup. I stayed outside until dark. I could feel the air changing. I'm not ready for winter. I don't like winter sports as much. I can't ski worth anything. I do enjoy a good snowball fight, though._

 _I saw Ruth biking by while outside. She waved. I didn't know she lived so close! I am making it my mission to find her house this week. Maybe she's brave enough to explore. Oh God, Dave is giving me that wounded look again. How does he read over my shoulder anyway?_

 _Time's up!_

...

Brennan wished she could meet Dave. She wondered if he was still alive. Him and Steve. They would be able to tell her about her Dad. She also wondered what happened between her father and his family. Obviously something happened. She was impatient to find out, but she didn't want to skip ahead either. She was finally feeling drowsy, so she put the book down and shut off the light, getting comfortable to sleep. Booth curled behind her, and she was soon sound to sleep.

* * *

 **I am planning on speeding things up with the entries to make things get interesting don't worry ;) Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

"It feels strange that I don't have to go to work," Brennan said as Booth got dressed. With the Jeffersonian under construction, there wasn't much she could do right now. Booth, however, still had to do his job since the FBI building was still intact. He was going back after being off for two weeks to recoup from the whole Kovac trying to kill him and his family thing.

"What are you going to get up to today?" he asked, putting his tie on. She was still in bed, watching.

"I'd very much like to bring you back to bed," she winked.

"Aha," he smirked. "I bet you would. Duty calls, though." He grabbed his phone and wallet and stuffed them into his suit jacket pockets. He leaned down to kiss her as he passed, and she tried to pull him down.

"Ah, ah," he said, laughing. "Later. Daddy's gotta go bring home the bacon."

"I have enough bacon to last us a lifetime," Brennan said. "Please stay?"

"Can't. Aubrey and I gotta train a newbie today. Should be fun," Booth replied.

"A newbie?"

"Yea. Someone's gotta do half the job when I'm not there," he said.

"Wait, what?" Brennan asked, laughing.

"I decided to go from full time to part time. I love my job, but I love you and the kids, and I want more down time to live. When we took the year off, it was really nice, but I started missing the action. This way, I get the best of both worlds," he explained, winking at her.

"That is smart," she agreed. She climbed out of bed and padded after him to the kitchen. It was 6:30 in the morning. Neither child was awake yet thankfully. Christine was going back to school today too, and Brennan was going to have the whole day with just Hank.

"How many journals have you buzzed through?" he asked.

"I'm a quarter way through one," she answered. "They're not too big of books thankfully."

"Still happy to be learning about your Dad's past?"

"Of course. I only wish he had told me himself. I'm sorry he kept that trauma to himself."

"Trauma?" Booth asked, turning the coffee maker on.

"Yes. From what I can tell anyway. It seems my grandfather was physically abusive towards him and an alcoholic," Brennan answered. She saw the flicker go across the skin on Booth's face. She noticed it every time they had a case with physical abuse or alcoholism in it.

"Huh," he said, resting his hands on the counter, looking at her. "I wouldn't have known."

"Me either. I feel frustrated that his family doesn't seem to care about him. He has two friends, Dave and Steve. They seem interesting."

Booth poured himself some cereal and grabbed a coffee while Brennan sat at the island and rested her chin on her hand.

"I love you," Booth said suddenly. Every time he looked at her he couldn't help but feel incredibly lucky that things had worked out between them.

"I love you too," she smiled. The sound of little feet reached their ears, and suddenly Christine and Hank were in the room. Christine was always happy to help Hank get out of his crib.

"Mommy!" Hank cried, raising his arms up and indicating he wanted to be picked up. Brennan obliged. Christine hugged Booth's legs tightly.

"Sleep well, Tigger?" Booth asked, using her nickname Max had dubbed her with. He had said it was because she bounced a lot.

"Not really," she replied. Booth set down his mug and bent down to her level.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't wanna go to school today," she said quietly. Brennan waited to hear what Booth was going to say before jumping in.

"Well, I know it's gonna be tough, but is there anything in particular that's making you not want to go?" he asked. Christine paused for a while before answering.

"I don't want to be asked anymore questions about Grandpa," she said.

"Who's asking you questions?"

"Other kids. They don't believe that he died saving me and Hank, so they keep asking for details."

"Oh, sweetie. You know it's true, and we know it's true, that's all that matters," Booth said, kissing her forehead, his hand cupping the back of her head.

"I miss Grandpa," Christine whispered. Booth hugged her tightly.

"I know," he said. "I miss him too."

"Me too," Hank chirped, burying his face into Brennan's neck. She felt tears in her eyes.

"Grandpa would want you to be strong and know that you don't have to tell anyone anything in detail about what happened to prove it did happen," Booth went on after releasing Christine. She nodded solemnly.

"Okay," she said. She went and grabbed her favorite cereal from the cupboard and filled her bowl.

"Toast," Hank said, patting Brennan's cheek with his hand. She laughed.

"All right," she agreed. The usual bustle of the morning routine came to life, and before long, Booth was off to work and Brennan was driving Christine to school. Then it was her and Hank for the rest of the day.

...

Hank had gone down for his nap, and Brennan was eager to get back to her father. She set her tea down on the coffee table and opened the journal.

...

 _October 16, 1951_

 _Walter and Vince got into a fight today. It was pretty brutal. Walter was bleeding everywhere by the time Vince was finished. I have no idea why the got into it, but I don't care. Bullies can beat on other bullies all they want. I won't stop them. I think they both got suspended._

 _Ruth handed me a note today, and it says: "Max, meet me by the tree at lunch. I have something to tell you." I am DYING to know what! This stupid class is taking too long. I can barely sit in this chair without wiggling, and Dave keeps snorting like a pig with laughter every time I almost tip backwards out of it. If I'm not careful, I might get sent to the principal's office. Then I won't get to meet Ruth. Focus, Max!_

 _I think Mom's going back into her depression again. She barely talked last night at dinner, and it didn't even seem like Dad cared. Rebecca kept trying to get her to talk, and Ron kept acting like an idiot to make her laugh. I think I'm the only one who understands that when she's sad, she wants to be left alone. Leaving people alone is what I do best._

 _Look at me go. I'm writing more today than I usually do. Hey...it's past the cut off for writing. Teacher hasn't even noticed. Oh, now she's looking at the clock. She must've been daydreaming! I wonder what she was thinking about. Prob her boyfriend, the Science teacher that she doesn't know I saw her macking on the other day in an abandoned hallway. Til tomorrow!_

 _October 17, 1951_

 _So I bet you're also DYING to know what Ruth told me yesterday. Well, she told me that she likes my friend Dave and wants to be his girlfriend and would I be all right with that. Talk about knife to the heart! What could I say? I gaped at her like a fish for about five minutes at least (it could have been less) before bumbling out words that somehow formed the sentence, "Yea, that's okay I guess." It's not okay! I like her! Damn it, what did I do wrong? I thought she liked me back. This is getting complicated. Of course Dave had come along then and she blushed so he knew something was up. One attempted Indian Burn later, and Dave knew all about it. He's grinning like an idiot beside me now. I bet I know what he's writing. "Ooohh Ruth likes meeee! I'm sooo happeeee!" I want to punch him. Yes, Dave, you. I see you looking at my paper. I don't want to write anymore._

 _October 19, 1951_

 _I skipped writing yesterday and earned a trip to the principal's office for being "rebellious." Let's add that word to my description shall we? The list is getting long. Mom finally snapped yesterday and told Dad to quit drinking or it was over. He laughed in her face. She stormed out. We all know she's at Aunt Martha's. Maybe this time she won't come back. Highly unlikely though._

 _Ruth tried to talk to me today. I wasn't so receptive. She said she was sorry that she didn't have those kind of feelings for me, but she wanted to still be friends. Friends! Ugh. Of course I said "Suuuuure!" I'm such a dork. What could she possibly see in Dave?! He has ears like a freaking monkey! And don't get me started on his nose. I'm getting worked up again, so I should change the subject._

 _I'm going to go see Steve again this weekend! I'm so excited. His father called mine and arranged it. Like Dad is actually going to remember that, but since they're coming to pick me up, who cares? I can't wait!_

...

Brennan heard Hank stirring in his bedroom, so she went to check on him. He was fully awake, so she brought him out to the living room with her. He wanted to play with his toys on the floor, and when asked if he wanted her to join, he shook his head and went on playing. Brennan sat back and opened the journal again, keeping one eye on Hank from time to time to make sure he still didn't want her attention.

...

 _October 22, 1951_

 _God, I miss Steve so much. We had the best weekend ever! We biked everywhere and played Knights of the Round Table like we used to. Of course I imagined myself saving Ruth like always. I still like her. He mentioned he hates his new school and misses doing pranks with me. He said he wants to move back, but his Dad is doing really well there, so they're gonna stay. They drove me back home Sunday night, and lo and behold, there was my Mom standing in the window. I should have taken that bet with Ron. I'd be five bucks richer. Oh well._

 _Ruth and Dave were holding hands today. YUCK! Like I wanted to see that! I heard they spent all weekend together biking. Dave hates biking. I happen to know that for a fact. Stinkin' liar. I just have to be patient, and eventually Ruth will see what a knob he is._

 _October 26, 1951_

 _It's incredibly easy to pretend to be writing when the teacher is looking. I haven't had much to say in the past four days. Nothing has changed. Ron and Rebecca had a huge fight amongst themselves about something I don't even know what. They were not very clear on that. Dad ended up throwing a beer bottle at them, but it missed and smashed on the wall. Good thing Mom was out for that. She'd have clocked him one, and that would have started a whole bigger mess. This weekend looks to be very dull. Dave has no time for me anymore, and no one else around here cares much to hang out with me. I admit, I don't mind being a loner, but this feels different. It's like I've been abandoned._

 _Aunt Martha is taking us out for ice cream tonight so our parents can "talk." That basically means Mom needs to ask Dad for something, and he's gonna blow up at her so we shouldn't be around to witness it. I know it frustrates my Aunt Martha to no end, but she keeps her mouth shut. I love her. I wish she was my mother._

...

"We're home," Booth called, making Brennan jump. She looked at the clock.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. Was it that time already?

"Daddy!" Hank called.

"How was your day?" Booth asked her, giving her a kiss while Christine moved to her bedroom with her book. She appeared a little subdued.

"It was great. Yours?"

"No bad guys today, but that's all right," he winked, picking up Hank. "Christine's teacher said she's worried cos Christine has been quiet all day. I explained to her what's been going on, and she agreed to talk to the other kids and tell them to leave Christine alone."

"I hope that doesn't make it worse," Brennan said, worrying.

"It won't. She has a technique apparently. I expressed the same concern," Booth reassured her.

"Hmm okay."

Booth set Hank down and went to go change while Brennan started cooking. She was thinking about her father and how lonely he seemed. She felt bad. She wished again that he had just told her about this stuff. It would have made her feel more connected with him. She wanted to give him a hug and tell him she loved him. For now, all she could was read.


	5. Chapter 5

**I am putting a trigger warning on this chapter.**

* * *

It was late at night once again. Brennan couldn't help but keep reading. She skimmed through the next month and half's worth of entries, reading her father's continued annoyance at Ruth and Dave's relationship and how he missed Steve. Then, she came across a few entries that were interesting.

...

 _December 21, 1951_

 _The last day before the holidays. Christmas can either be two things: 1. Dad doesn't drink and is actually happy and festive or 2. Dad gets depressed and drinks so much we have to go find him in the middle of the night. I have no idea why Christmas is so hard for him. Nobody tells me anything. I almost dread going home, but I'm gonna sneak this journal out with me so I can still write. We don't usually have a lot of family come over. Aunt Martha will cos she's the only one in Mom's family to come around. I don't know where my grandparents are. Dad never talks about his parents. A part of me wonders if that is why he drinks so much. What do I know? I'm just a kid._

 _December 24, 1951_

 _Dad is sober! He's laughing and dancing with Mom right now as I write. It's good to hear her laugh again too. Ron and Rebecca are making cookies with Aunt Martha. I wanted to be alone._

 _I miss Ruth. She gave me a hug and wished me a Merry Christmas on the last day of school, but it didn't feel as good as I wanted it to. She keeps hanging out with Dave, and they have their own language together almost. It's weird._

 _It's time to read A Christmas Carol. Thanks to Rebecca and Ron, I don't believe in the magic of Christmas anymore. They had such delight in telling me that it all wasn't real two years ago. I'm waiting for Mom to tell me since I'm now ten, and that's when she told the twins, but she hasn't yet. Maybe she still wants me to believe. Or maybe she knows I know. The motormouths have a hard time keeping things to themselves._

 _December 25, 1951_

 _A Christmas to remember all right. An elderly woman came to our house, and Dad freaked out, yelling and screaming and telling her to go away. Mom got scared. The twins and I just stood there amongst our gifts wondering what was going on. Dad made the lady cry, and then as soon as she was gone, he went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. Festive Dad was gone after that. We tiptoed around him. Aunt Martha kept trying to get him to talk, but Mom kept asking her to just let it go. Dinner was quiet. Dad was passed out by eight o'clock. I found Aunt Martha sitting on the back porch looking up at the stars, and when I asked who the lady was, she told me it was my grandmother. Dad's mother._

 _"What happened? Why don't we ever see her?" I asked._

 _"It's not my place to tell you," was all she said. So much for getting information! I guess it's a Mom question once she's calmed down. I'm burning to know. I did hear this after the lady had left, though._

 _"She's dying, Jim," Mom said._

 _"I don't give a shit," Dad answered. "She can rot in hell with him. I won't have anything to do with her."_

 _"But..."_

 _"No, Rachel. Now drop it!" Dad ordered._

 _My grandmother is dying. I wish I knew where to find her, but maybe I'm not meant to. Maybe it's better this way. I don't know anymore._

 _December 27, 1951_

 _I got told to shut up and go away when I tried to ask about Grandma. Mom cuffed me around the head and warned me to never bring it up again within earshot of Dad. I guess something major must have happened. Too bad I'll never know._

 _December 29, 1951_

 _Dave's moving away too! He just left. I am astounded. I can't believe it. Ruth must be devastated. I'm trying not to feel happy about it, but a tiny part of me is. Dave was miserable. He said his grandfather was ill, and no one was there to help him, so they were moving to be closer to him. Dave swore he'd come back one day, but I don't know. I feel like I might never see him again._

...

"Are you ever going to sleep?" Booth asked from the doorway. Brennan looked up at him.

"There's something going on with his father and his father's family," Brennan said instead. Booth came over and sat down beside her.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, his grandmother came on Christmas Day, and his father told her to leave before going and getting drunk."

"Interesting."

"Are you actually, or are you just appeasing me so I'll come to bed?" she asked.

"No, I am interested," he said. "It sounds like your Dad maybe had a hard life."

"I'm realizing just how much," Brennan sighed. She rested her head on Booth's shoulder. He reached over and squeezed her knee gently. After a few moments, her head grew heavier on his shoulder, and the journal slipped from her hands. Booth carefully picked up the journal and opened up a page. Curiosity got the best of him.

...

 _January 8, 1952_

 _Dad got so drunk last night that he started hurting Mom. There was a lot of screaming and yelling. Ron, Rebecca, and I hid in the closet upstairs with the door bolted on the inside the way were were taught by Mom. We'd only seen him like this twice before, and it never ended well. Last time, I tried to protect Mom, but I wound up being hurled down the stairs. I had a "bad flu" the week I recovered from that one. Once Dad was sober, and he saw what he had done, he cried and cried and left the house for about three days. If he knows it's wrong, then why does he do it? I don't understand. I don't know if I ever will. People say I need to be older to understand things, but what's there to get? Alcohol apparently makes you mean. I will never drink. Ever._

 _January 9, 1952_

 _Ruth wants to hang out this weekend. I can't wait. Ever since Dave left, she's been spending more time with me. She doesn't talk about him, though. I can tell she misses him even without her saying it out loud._

 _Mom didn't go to work today. She couldn't cover up her bruise very well. Dad took off. I hope he never comes back._

...

Booth lowered the journal, feeling like he was invading on Max's privacy. He also felt like he was reading his own past. Hands trembling, he set the journal down on the coffee table in front of him. He had never felt more connected to his father-in-law than he did right then. Brennan stirred, bringing Booth back to the present and out of his mind of memories. He carefully picked her up and carried her to bed, setting her down gently. Then he crawled in beside her and held her tight. The ghosts of his past whirled around in his brain as he fell asleep.

 **The Next Day**

Hank was with Angela. Christine was at school. Booth was at work. Brennan had the entire house to herself. She went to the back deck and soaked up the sun. She had read a little bit that morning, seeing that her grandfather's behavior was escalating as well as her father's relationship with her mother. They hung out a lot. She kept reading.

...

 _February 22, 1952_

 _I'm in deep trouble. I yelled at my father tonight. I called him a lying son of a bitch, and I told him I hated him. Then I ran away. I knew exactly where I wanted to go, and that's where I am right now. Steve is lying on his stomach reading beside me. His Dad was okay with me staying. He seemed to know what my household was like, and he didn't really say much when I refused to tell him what had happened. I'll tell you what happened, though._

 _It all started as soon as I went home. My good mood over Ruth spending all of recess with me died as soon as my foot crossed the threshold. Dad was already drinking. Mom was sniffling in the corner. Ron and Rebecca were upstairs I presumed. I dared to ask what was wrong. Well, Dad exploded. He called me a good for nothing spoiled brat, and he wished I had never been born. That's when I blew up back at him and said what I said. His words felt like knives in my chest. Mine didn't even make him flinch. Maybe he knows it's true._

 _I left without looking back. I even hitched, which I was forbidden to do. I'm staying here all weekend. I don't care._

 _February 23, 1952_

 _My family_

 _Later_

 _My parents are_

 _Later Still_

 _Ron and Rebecca_

 _February 24, 1952_

 _I'm an orphan._

...

Brennan gasped out loud. She flipped the next page, looking for more entries, but the rest of the book was blank.

"No!" she cried, banging it hard. She ran inside, hurrying to where the rest of the journals were. She found one that started in 1953. Her father hadn't written anything for a whole year?! She threw a quick glance towards the clock. She had less than an hour before everyone came home. She had to read fast.

...

 _August 6, 1953_

 _It's been a long time since I've picked up a pencil. I am approaching my twelfth birthday. I haven't felt like writing. I tried a few times, but there just didn't seem to be any point to it. My life has been nothing but shambles ever since my Dad murdered my family. Apparently it was a "drunken rage." He had a gun somewhere, and he killed them all. Even Aunt Martha, who I'm assuming had been there to keep the peace. I am alive because I had been at Steve's. I was immediately placed in foster care. I've been bouncing around homes the past year and a half because no one really wants to adopt me, and no one can really put up with me either. It's not like I'm on my best behavior, though. I just don't care anymore. I had to leave my home, my school, everything. I lost Ruth on top of my family. The only belongings I have with me are my old journal, a few clothes, and one photo of my family. It had been taken at Christmas five years ago. My new rule is: Don't get attached; it only gets ripped away from you._

 _I can't help but think that my angry words provoked my father to do what he did. I live with that guilt every single day. I also feel guilty for being alive. I should be dead too. I'm currently staying with a nice foster family. They are a bit older. They live on a farm. I enjoy feeding the animals. I have to go to school only because I should sort of have some kind of education for when I'm older. The only thing keeping me here is the fact that I'm afraid that if I die, I'll see my father again, and he'll hurt me. Crazy I know._

 _Anyway, Beth and Randy are summoning me for dinner. I don't have the heart to be mean to these people. They seem sad, like they lost something or someone too. Maybe I'll find out._

...

Booth stared at the computer screen in front of him. He had done some digging, and he found a terrible truth. The news article was glaring at him from the screen, daring him to question if it was real or not. _Local Man Kills Wife, Children, and Sister-in-law Before Killing Himself._ He knew it was real. Booth knew that his own father could have been capable of this too if things had escalated. He shivered. Max really had had a rough life. He printed off the article to take home. He dreaded telling Brennan. He knew it would break her heart. Then again, she had the journals. _The journals._

"Shit," he said, standing up quickly. He grabbed his coat and hurried out of his office. He hoped he would get home before she got to that part. He didn't want her to be alone for that.

...

Brennan heard Booth come home, and she still didn't get up. He found her out in the back. Her face said it all.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," she replied.

"You read it," he nodded. She turned to look at him.

"Read what?"

"This," he said, handing her a piece of paper. She looked down at it. The headline looked back up at her. She stifled a sob.

"Yes," she confirmed. "My Dad escaped because he had run away from home that night." Booth pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry, Bones," he said.

"It's okay," Brennan sniffled. "He always said my mother was his family. Now I know why." Booth looked around suddenly.

"The kids...?"

"Angela is bringing them home," Brennan answered.

"You wanna tell her to keep them for a bit?"

"No. No, I'm okay."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Booth. I'll be okay. Just like my Dad was eventually okay." Brennan now realized the sadness that had always clouded her father's eyes. He had carried a lot with him over the years. She missed him very much, and she hoped that wherever her father was, his father wasn't there with him.

* * *

 **I'm sorry it was so harsh and depressing. I had to explain why Max had no family somehow, and this just seemed fitting. It contributes to how he went down the path he did, at least, in this story. Thanks for reading. Things eventually get better I promise.  
**


	6. Chapter 6

Brennan had a difficult time sleeping that night. She couldn't stop thinking about her murderous grandfather. No wonder her father didn't tell her. It spoke against everything she did for a career. She brought down killers like her own flesh and blood. It made her feel sick. Booth was unsure what to say about the situation, but he felt just as sick as she did. He put the kids to bed for her while she sat and stared at the fireplace. She felt empty, horrified. By the time bedtime came around, she felt even worse. She didn't want to read anymore. She didn't want to know what other horrible things her father endured growing up. She tossed and turned for a while before Booth finally spoke.

"You need to keep reading," he said in the darkness.

"What?" she asked, propping herself on her elbow.

"You can't leave it like that. You gotta keep reading and find out how he got with your mom and how he had you guys," Booth said. "You can't let your last entry be something so terrible."

"I'm scared there's going to be more," she admitted.

"Something tells me it gets better from there," he said thoughtfully.

"What if he writes about the murders he did, Booth? I don't want to read that," Brennan said, feeling nervous.

"I doubt he would because that could have been used against him in court," Booth said. "If there were journal entries indicating he did it, they would have been found and used. Trust me."

"He probably had them hidden..."

"I seriously doubt he wrote that down, Bones," Booth cut her off. "Please just trust me." She thought for a moment.

"Okay," she agreed. She still couldn't sleep, though. Giving up, she slipped out of bed and back to the living room. She needed more time with her Dad.

...

 _August 29, 1953_

 _I can't complain about life on this farm. The chores keep me busy. Beth and Randy treat me well. I don't have to talk about what happened if I don't want to, and I don't. School starts soon. I'm tempted to not even go. Why bother? Another new school. More opportunities to be bullied and picked on. I don't dare suggest staying home, though. I think it would be an issue.  
_

 _I can't seem to find out why Beth and Randy have this sadness behind them. Maybe that's why we get along so well. We all have secrets. I doubt the social worker told them about my father and what he did. Nobody wants a child who's genetics predispose them of being a murderer. It probably doesn't work that way, but people still think it. I know they do. I made the mistake of telling my last foster home, and they had me out the door quicker than you could sneeze. This is my secret. It stays with me to my grave. I will hide these journals eventually so no one will read them, but I have to let it out somewhere. I just have to. Keeping it inside is like trying to put a pin back into a grenade. Impossible.  
_

 _September 14, 1953_

 _School is...okay. I was surprised that it was a smaller school. The kids seem to be respectful. I know they are still looking at me as the new guy, and that's okay. Let them wonder about me. I'm good at being a mystery.  
_

 _I really miss Steve. I'm so far away from him now that I wonder if I'll ever see him again. I'm sure he and his father were devastated to hear the news. I wished they could have kept me, but it wasn't the way it was meant to be. My rotten luck.  
_

 _I still think of Ruth. I have no idea her reaction to all of this because I was taken away so fast. I wonder if she still thinks about me?_

 _Time for supper. The one thing I do enjoy here is Beth's cooking. Never had anything so good in my life.  
_

 _October 3, 1953_

 _I got to skip school the past few weeks for harvest. Lots of wheat and barley. Randy keeps telling me that I will enjoy calving season. I'm not so sure about this. Sticking my arm up a cow's privates doesn't seem appealing to me at all.  
_

 _Our teacher assigned us with the task of writing about our family history. I wanted to die from laughing. How am I going to write about my family? I'm sure she knows I'm a foster kid. I get the sympathetic looks every so often. I think I will just make something up. Why cause feelings of horror in someone else? I know what it's like, and I hate it. I wouldn't do that to someone else._

 _October 30, 1953_

 _I have been invited to a Halloween party tomorrow night. I don't know what to make of this. Beth seems excited about it somehow, as if having friends means I'm okay. I feel indifferent. I don't know if I'll go.  
_

 _November 1, 1953_

 _I went. Beth practically forced me to, and the look in her eyes when she begged me to go made me feel bad, so I went. It wasn't half bad. There were a few guys who chatted with me and seemed interested in hanging out, but we'll see. Beth wanted to hear all about it when I got home, so I told her everything. Her smile was sad, though. I want to ask her why she's sad, but I don't want to upset her either. Perhaps one day we will get to that state of knowing each other better._

 _I don't think my teacher bought my fake family history paper, but she didn't challenge me on it. For that, I am grateful.  
_

...

"Mommy?"

Brennan opened her eyes to see her daughter standing there, looking at her. It was daylight outside. She sat up straight. She had fallen asleep on the couch.

"Are you and Daddy fighting?" Christine asked, worried.

"No! Goodness, no," Brennan answered. "I couldn't sleep, so I came out to read. I guess I fell asleep while reading."

"Oh," Christine nodded, looking happier.

"There she is," Booth said, coming out with Hank in his arms. "Did you wake Mommy up?"

"No," Christine said, looking down.

"I woke up on my own," Brennan said, covering for her little girl. She didn't want Christine to feel bad. Booth set Hank down, and the two of them rushed over to the table where cereal was waiting for them.

"Well?" he asked.

"You were right," she replied. "They were a bit better."

"Good." He kissed her square on the mouth before going over to supervise the kids. She sat there, watching. She couldn't imagine anything like what her father endured happening to her family.

"Knock, knock," Aubrey said, coming in. "Oohh, breakfast!" He sat down between Hank and Christine, who both scrabbled for his attention.

"Nose like a bloodhound, I swear," Booth said, tossing Aubrey a piece of toast.

"What brings you here?" Brennan asked, going over to join them.

"Got a new lead on a case," Aubrey said between bites. "Figured I could carpool."

"Can you take Christine to school?" Booth asked.

"I can," she agreed. "I'm going over to Angela's with Hank later today too."

"How is the pregnancy going?" Aubrey asked.

"Well so far," Brennan answered. "I know they are worried about the chances of blindness again, but I think they will find that out soon."

"Auntie Angela is having another baby?" Christine asked. Brennan forgot they hadn't told her yet.

"That's right," she answered.

"Yay!" Christine shouted. Hank shouted too, although he didn't fully understand why.

"Okay, munchkin," Booth said to Christine. "Grab your bag. Mommy's gonna drive you to school now."

"Let me get dressed first," Brennan laughed. She hurried to do so. It was a whirlwind of activity while everyone was getting ready and leaving for their day. She managed to catch Booth for one last kiss before they parted ways.

"Go get 'em," she smiled.

"I always do," he grinned back.

 **Later  
**

Brennan hadn't told Angela about what her grandfather had done. She felt as though she needed to keep her father's secret. Hank had fun with Hodgins of course. Wheel chair rides were his favorite. Angela talked about how their doctor gave them fairly positive news about the baby, but they wouldn't know for sure until a few months later. Angela refused to be upset, though, which Brennan was glad for. Now she was back home, and Hank was down for a nap. She sat down at the table and started reading again.

...

 _December 12, 1953_

 _Christmas is coming again. I don't enjoy it anymore. All I keep thinking about is my last Christmas with my family, and it hurts. Our school is putting on a play, and thankfully, I was able to just do crew duty. I don't much care for acting.  
_

 _Beth asked me if I had a best friend, and when I said Steve, she said why didn't I invite him over to meet them? I said he was from back home, and she grew quiet. I think she knows how much I miss him.  
_

 _December 23, 1953_

 _Beth pulled off the greatest gift I could ever ask for. Steve is here. For a week. I will write later cos right now, we have a lot of stuff to catch up on._

 _January 7, 1954_

 _I still can't believe Beth got Steve to come visit. I don't know how she even figured out where to find him. All she said was "You're welcome" and smiled. She must have asked my social worker. It's the only way.  
_

 _Steve helped me get through the anniversary of my family's deaths. He's the only one who understands I think. I asked him not to say anything to Beth and Randy about it, and he didn't. We just went off and did our own thing so they wouldn't see me cry. I'm too old for crying, but somehow, Steve made it feel okay. We talked about the good times and memories. I was really sad to see him leave, but we agreed to get together again soon. I don't know if I could go to his house since it was where the whole thing started.  
_

 _March 6, 1954_

 _Randy got hurt today. Stupid cow kicked him in the face and broke his nose. I have never seen so much blood. Oddly enough, I didn't faint. He barely managed to crawl under the fence to get away from the cow, which ended up making his face worse as it got caught on the wiring. I think the cow knew he was being sold for meat and threw a fit. Randy was muttering something about barbecuing it up real nice and enjoying every bite since the brute nearly killed him. When I laughed, he smiled a real smile. I haven't seen that before. It was really great. At first, he refused to go to the hospital until Beth and I showed him his face in the mirror. That's when he realized it was bad enough to require medical attention. Beth went to throw up a few times during the whole thing. I was fine. Blood and guts don't bother me apparently.  
_

 _March 19, 1954_

 _I've been hanging out with Carl for a few weeks now. He's one of the guys from the Halloween party. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be his friend, but he has been persistent. Today is the first day we've officially hung out, and it was great. Carl is funny. Hilarious. Beth encourages me to make friends, so she was thrilled to see Carl come over today.  
_

 _I really like this foster home. I overheard Randy and Beth talking about adopting me, and at first I felt scared, but now, now I feel okay with it. I was digging around up in the attic the other day trying to make a cool hide out, and I found a photo album right full of pictures of them with a baby girl. The baby grew up to be a teenager, and then no more pictures. I wonder what happened. I felt wrong snooping, but it makes sense now why they're sad. They lost someone they loved too._

...

Brennan closed the journal and sighed. She was happy her father had Beth and Randy, but why hadn't he ever told her about them? It made her feel worried. On the other hand, maybe his lifestyle disappointed them, so he kept his distance. She hoped they wouldn't die on him too. She pulled Hank from his nap and went to get Christine. She knew immediately from the teacher's expression that something was wrong.

"What happened?" she asked, shifting Hank in her arms.

"Your daughter attacked a student today," the teacher said, crossing her arms.

"What?!"

"He said I was a bastard," Christine piped up.

"Christine!" the teacher admonished.

"Well, has that child been punished for saying such a horrible thing to my daughter?" Brennan asked.

"I took care of it," she replied stiffly. "Then your daughter punched him in the nose."

"Christine, what did I tell you about hitting others?" Brennan asked, getting down to Christine's level. She released Hank, who went immediately to the play area to occupy himself.

"He was mean," Christine defended herself.

"I know, but that doesn't give you the right to hit someone," Brennan told her. Christine hung her head.

"I don't know what happens at home..."

"Are you implying that I am a victim of domestic violence?" Brennan asked angrily. "Or that there is violence in my home that we allow?"

"Not at all," the teacher said smoothly.

"It's what it's sounding like," Brennan said fiercely, glaring at her.

"I'm implying cartoons, Dr. Brennan. They are filled with violence and deem it acceptable behavior because it's funny," the teacher went on.

"She doesn't watch that stuff," Brennan shook her head. "I will handle this appropriately when we get home."

"Thank you. I should mention that Travis is now terrified of her," the teacher said.

"I'm sorry he feels that way," Brennan replied. _Maybe he should think twice before calling someone a bastard_ , she thought to herself. "Come on, Christine." They drove home in silence.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," she said sadly when they got inside and Hank went to go play.

"I know, sweetheart. I just don't understand what would make you hit him," Brennan sighed.

"He said you were a slut for having a bastard like me out of wedlock," Christine said. "I didn't tell the teacher the whole thing." Brennan could now clearly see why her daughter did what she did now. Booth was going to laugh, which wasn't going to help.

"Do you know what any of those words mean?" Brennan asked.

"Not really, but he said it so meanly, and they sounded bad," Christine answered.

"Thank you for telling me the truth, but you're still losing television privileges for two weeks, okay?"

"Okay."

Christine walked away, shoulders hunched. Brennan felt bad, but she couldn't encourage violent behavior. A tiny piece of her worried that her great grandfather's blood would be in her, as irrational as that seemed.


	7. Chapter 7

**I haven't forgotten about this story! Here's an update. Hope you all enjoy ;)**

* * *

Brennan tapped her fingers on the countertop. How was she going to tell Booth that their daughter punched someone today? And how did that little bugger know Christine was born out of wedlock? This bothered her the most.

"Hey, Bones," Booth said, coming in. He set down his keys, wallet, and phone. He paused, seeing her face. "What's wrong?"

"Christine punched someone today," Brennan replied. Christine and Hank were playing in her room out of earshot.

"What?" Booth asked, incredulous.

"Apparently a boy told her I was a slut who had her out of wedlock thus making her a bastard," Brennan explained. Booth processed this for a second, and then, as predicted, burst into laughter.

"Booth! This isn't funny," Brennan said, frustrated.

"I just...wow. Really? Go Christine," Booth said.

"No, Booth. It's bad for her to hit."

"I know, I know. It is. Has she been punished?" he asked.

"Yes. No television for two weeks."

"Sounds fair."

"And a discussion from you about why hitting is wrong," Brennan finished.

"What?" Booth asked, whining. "But I'm pro punch for this one."

"Too bad. She can't go around hitting people even if they are being mean."

"All right. This is gonna be hard, though."

"Booth..."

"And besides, you have freely punched people yourself when they piss you off," he pointed out.

"That is so not the point here," Brennan argued.

"You just don't want to admit that I'm right," Booth grinned.

"Go talk to her right now," Brennan ordered.

"I'm on it, I'm on it," he said, going down the hall to Christine's room. Brennan shook her head. Booth did have a point, but Christine didn't need to know that her mother did that sort of thing in the workplace.

...

Booth looked at his little girl playing with her brother, and his heart melted. How could a sweet little thing like that pop a punch at someone else? He inhaled and exhaled slowly. It had to be done.

"Hi, Daddy," she said when he came into the room.

"Daddy!" Hank shouted, rushing over to him. Booth picked him up high and tossed him a little, making him laugh.

"I hear Mommy making you a snack," he told Hank. "Why don't you go see what it is?"

"Okay!" Hank said excitedly.

"What about me?" Christine asked.

"I need to talk to you," Booth answered. She hung her head, knowing what he wanted to talk about.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Hitting is wrong, and I should not have done it no matter what he said."

"That's right," Booth nodded. "But it's sometimes hard to think straight when you're angry, so how can we work together to make sure you can walk away without hurting the other person?"

"I could just go tell the teacher," Christine said.

"That's good. What else?"

"I don't know."

"You could try breathing," Booth suggested. Christine thought about it before nodding.

"I could tell him he's being mean and is hurting my feelings," she said.

"Sure."

"I don't know what else."

"It's all right. You thought of some really great options," Booth said, pulling her into his arms and cuddling her. "Hey, did he happen to say who told him this stuff?"

"He said he heard his mommy talking about it to her daddy."

"Ah. Thanks, love," Booth said, kissing her forehead. "Now go get a snack." She went down the hall, and Booth sat on the floor pondering about who these parents were.

...

 _March 23, 1954_

 _Carl did something today that bothered me. We were in the general store picking up stuff for Randy when I saw him slip some candy into his pockets. He winked at me and walked out. No one saw him. I was flustered at the till, and I think the storeowner thought I was having a small stroke or something. I don't know what to think of Carl now. Stealing just isn't right, especially from Mr. Goodwin. He's so nice. I don't know if I should bring it up to Carl or not. Does he expect me to follow his example?_

 _May 1, 1954_

 _I took some time off of writing. I have been too busy anyway with the farm and helping Randy. Beth also needs assistance from time to time with chores inside._

 _I have kept my distance from Carl. He tried to brush it off when I asked about it, and ever since then, I don't want to hang out with him as much. I know Beth is disappointed, but I couldn't tell her why. Does that make me an accomplice? I'm not sure anymore._

 _I miss my mom today. Maybe it's stupid, but on the first day in May, she would always come up to me and go "May Day, May Day!" and laugh. It was our joke. Sometimes it was a race to see which one of us would get to say it first. She almost always won. Then she would cheat and have it written on a note taped to my forehead for when I woke up. I really, really miss her._

 _I also miss Ruth. I've thought of her often, but I heard she moved away. If I had still been living there, she would have left anyway._

 _June 3, 1954_

 _I'm going to be 14 this summer. I start high school in the fall. The school is getting ready for its grade eight graduation, and I feel bittersweet about it. Growing up sucks when you're an orphan. Don't get me wrong, I love Randy and Beth, and from their whispering and secret smiles, I'd say the process of adoption has started. That does make me smile too. Max Thompson. I kinda like it._

 _June 15, 1954_

 _I made a stupid mistake and left my journal out, and Beth read it. When I came home from school, she was pacing the kitchen looking both guilty and upset. I saw my journal on the table, and I knew she read it._

 _"That was private," I started._

 _"I know," she cut me off. "I am so, so sorry. I thought it was Randy's and snooped to see if he'd written about me, and then I saw it was yours. I couldn't put it down."_

 _"So you know," I said. She looked at the floor._

 _"I know," she agreed. Then she looked at me._

 _"I don't suppose you want me now," I said, moving to go to my room. She stopped me, and then she said something that I will never, ever forget._

 _"Of course we want you. Max, you are the best son we've never had. Your father's choices do not make you who you are, you are nothing like him. If you'll have us, we want to be your parents."_

 _I was shocked. Instead of answering, I just hugged her tightly. She rocked me for a bit while I cried. I didn't think I'd ever cry again, but there they were. Wretched tears._

 _"It's all right," she soothed. Then she pulled back. "Since I found out something private about you, it's only fair that you find out something private about us."_

 _"You don't have to..."_

 _"Yes, I do. It's time," she interrupted, tugging on my hand. She led me to a small room on the other side of the house where Randy's office was._

 _"This wasn't always Randy's office," she started. "This was our daughter's room. Sylvia. She was your age when she went missing."_

 _"Missing?"_

 _"Yes. She left school to come home and was never seen or heard from again."_

 _"I'm so sorry." I was taken aback. I had assumed she had died. Then again, it was possible that she was dead._

 _"That was 20 years ago," she sighed. She looked at me then. "I've never given up hope, but I think Randy has."_

 _"It's hard to lose someone you love," I said. She nodded, rubbing my shoulder affectionately._

 _"I think we'll make a fine little family," she smiled. "There is no pressure to take our last name, by the way." I smiled back. I was feeling like her words were true, that we would be a good family. I didn't want to admit she had given me hope, but sitting here right now, I have hope again._

...

Brennan closed the journal. It was another one finished. She added it to the pile. They were not very thick journals, but they contained so much about her father's life.

"Are you awake?" she asked Booth, who was lying beside her.

"Yes," he replied. "I can't sleep."

"Still wondering who the parents are?"

He sat up sharply.

"Yea. What is the brat's name?"

"Travis. I don't have a last name, but I can find out."

"Do that," Booth said. "I might have to have a chat with his parents."

"Don't get physical," Brennan smirked.

"Ha ha," he said, lying back down.

"Speaking of physical..." Brennan started. He instantly flipped her on top of him, making her laugh.

"I thought you'd never ask," he grinned.

...

 _October 3, 1954_

 _High school is...okay. Harder studies and more people to contend with, but the school itself is a happier environment. Being 14 is interesting. Lots of changes happening to me, not that I'm going to get into great detail. There is a rather cute girl that I see around school that I am interested in talking to. Maybe it will go somewhere._

 _October 23, 1954_

 _The craziest thing happened the other day. I was trying to talk to the girl, Julie, and this other girl totally cut me off and started sassing me. Then, as I looked closer, she started to look familiar. Then she stalked off. When I asked what her name was, they told me, and I was completely thrown off guard._

 _It was Ruth.  
_

* * *

 ***Gasp* Thank you for not making predictions and jumping ahead of me. I really appreciate it :D  
**


	8. Chapter 8

Booth decided to take Christine to school the next morning. He waited around as she got settled into the class, and he noticed a mother fussing with her son in the hallway.

"If she hits you again, you tell the teacher right away, okay?" the mother was saying. Booth stiffened. So this was the so and so whose son called Christine a bastard.

"I'm scared," Travis whimpered.

"She's a girl, Travis," the mother said fiercely. "You should not be afraid of girls."

"That's a little bit stereotypical of you," Booth piped up now. She looked at him, frowning.

"Excuse me?"

"He's not supposed to be afraid of a girl? Come on now, we all know girls can be tougher than men sometimes," Booth scoffed.

"You're the father," she said, getting it.

"Yea, and you're the mother telling your kids things they don't need to know," Booth said, crossing his arms.

"Travis, just go inside, okay?"

"But..."

"Go!"

Booth watched a very dejected Travis slink his way into the classroom. A piece of him felt proud that this boy was terrified of his daughter. Maybe it was wrong, but the kid needed his mean streak taken down a peg or two.

"You wanna tell me why your son called my daughter a bastard child born from a slut? Huh? Where do you think he learned that?" Booth asked. The woman, Gloria, shrugged.

"I wouldn't know."

"Oh come on, you're telling me that your son just happened to know the words 'slut' and 'bastard' and how to use them correctly? I don't think so."

"Well, it's true isn't it?"

"Okay, whoa," Booth said, holding up his hands. "That is none of your damn business."

"I think the most important thing here is that your daughter struck my son."

"Who called her a horrible name."

"You're encouraging it then?!"

"No. She's been punished, but you're not getting it, lady."

"It's Gloria..."

"Whatever. You're not getting that your son was rude and mean to my daughter regardless of the fact that she hit him."

"What's going on out here?" the teacher asked, cutting in.

"Just two parents discussing the events of what happened yesterday," Booth answered. "It's fine."

"I have made sure they are separated," the teacher said.

"Good," Gloria sniffed.

"Maybe a lesson about name calling should be implemented into your curriculum," Booth said angrily.

"We have rules about that, Mr. Booth. And rules about hitting."

"I understand," Booth nodded. "It has been taken care of at home."

"See to it that the little monster stays away from my Travis," Gloria said harshly, moving to leave.

"Little what?!" Booth exclaimed, furious now. The teacher grabbed his elbow, restraining him from chasing after her.

"Let her go," the teacher said.

"She just called my daughter..."

"I _know_ , Mr. Booth," the teacher said, squeezing his arm. "Trust me, you don't want to get Gloria pissed off at you."

"Why's that?"

"She's married to a retired Senator, okay? Big name, big people. They can also cause big problems for us."

"So cos he's a senator's son he can just get away with it?"

"No. I have my punishment in place for Travis. Look, he's one of those important parents' child, yes, but he's also left alone too much and doesn't get much time with his parents. He didn't know any better."

"They can't just teach him words like that..."

"They didn't," the teacher cut in. "Travis told me that much." Booth was surprised.

"So who...?"

"I'm investigating that," she promised. "I think your wife might have gotten the impression I was on Travis's side yesterday. I was only a little gruff because I didn't want Travis reporting to his mother that I was taking Christine's side. Just to be clear, I am on nobody's side."

"I know it was wrong of her to hit him, but can you blame her?"

"I'm sure if I was her age, I would have hit him too, but that's beside the point. I'm going to talk to Travis more today about where he heard those words, and I'll let you know."

"Thanks," Booth nodded. The teacher released his arm then. He was still angry at Gloria for calling Christine a monster, though. On his drive to work, he wondered how hard it would be to look them up.

...

Brennan was staring at the journal in her hand. Her mother had moved closer to her father. They were in the same high school. It was getting more interesting. Then, her phone rang.

"Brennan."

"Hey, it's me," Booth said.

"Hi."

"Travis's parents are rather famous," Booth said. He was looking at his computer.

"Oh?"

"Yea. His father is a retired big shot senator. Tony Giovanni. I met the mother today, Gloria."

"I see."

"The teacher is looking into where Travis heard that stuff."

"Good."

"What are you up to?"

"Just reading," she replied, itching to open the journal again.

"I won't keep you. I just thought I'd give you an update."

"Thank you," she smiled.

"I'll see you later."

"Okay."

Hank was coloring quietly on the floor, his feet swinging in the air as he rested on his stomach. He was humming to himself. Brennan knew he wouldn't be occupied with that for long, so she hurriedly scanned the next few pages.

...

 _October 24, 1954_

 _Ruth is here. RUTH is here. I don't understand it. My head is still spinning. Beth asked me if I was ill last night, and quite frankly, I think I might be. I haven't seen Ruth in a long time. She clearly recognized me, though. I want tomorrow to come faster so I can talk to her again. To be honest, I haven't stopped thinking about her. I think...I think I might even be in love._

 _October 25, 1954_

 _Well, that sucked. Ruth wouldn't even give me two seconds before storming off. I don't understand. What did I do?_

 _October 31, 1954_

 _Halloween again. I went to Carl's party only because I heard Ruth was going to be there. Here's what happened:_

 _I saw her dancing with some guy. He tried to get funny with her, so I stepped in and punched him in the face. All hell broke loose, and I hauled Ruth out of there._

 _"Does violence always solve everything for you?" she snapped._

 _"No, why?"_

 _"Because it seems to run in your family."_

 _I felt my heart stop then. So she knew what my father had done. How could she even think I'd be anything like him?_

 _"I guess it ends with me then," I said._

 _"What do you mean?"_

 _"I'll never have kids. That way, it stops."_

 _"Don't say that."_

 _"Too late. Anyway, sorry I saved you from that jerk." I went to leave when she grabbed my hand._

 _"I'm grateful for that. I just wish you'd found a different way to do it."_

 _"He's as big as a tree, Ruth. Asking him nicely wasn't going to do anything."_

 _"I'm sorry," she blurted out then. I was confused._

 _"For what?"_

 _"For making that comment about your family. I know you wouldn't do something like that. I was sick with worry until I heard you were still alive. I'm sorry it happened."_

 _"Me too," I nodded. I'll say this, I don't like talking about it, but with Ruth, it didn't bother me as much._

 _"I'll see you at school?"_

 _"Yea. I'll see you at school."_

 _Journal, I think I'm head over heels for her again._

 _December 6, 1954_

 _Ruth and I have been hanging out a lot, which is why I haven't been writing much. If I can spend time with her, I will. Beth and Randy met her last week, and they love her. She asked if she could attend the signing of our adoption papers. I said yes. I'm feeling nervous about being adopted, though, and I don't know why. I guess I can't help but feel that something is going to happen to them right when I'm starting to feel at home again. Maybe I'm just being crazy._

 _December 24, 1954_

 _I am officially Max Thompson. Beth was crying. Randy was tearing up I could tell. Heck, I was even feeling a bit emotional as they signed the documents. Ruth had a little cake for us afterwards. I learned that she lives just down the road on another farm. She said her parents wanted to be more hands on with life, and farming was the answer apparently. I just can't believe she ended up with me. Well, we're not dating. Just friends for now. I'm hoping to change her mind soon. Beth just came and gave me a huge hug. She said I was the best Christmas present she'd received in a long time. Randy seemed a little affronted about that, but he was smiling._

 _So, journal, this is my new life. It feels pretty good._

...

Brennan was preparing supper as Booth played with the kids in the living room. She could hear their squealing and growling, and she could only assume it was the Puppy Game as Christine liked to call it. She was busy thinking about her father's new family, and she pondered about whether or not she should keep reading. Of course, she wanted to know what was going to happen that made Ruth get with her father finally, but she also didn't want to read about anymore sadness and heartbreak. By the way her father had said Ruth was his family, she could only take that to mean something happened to Beth and Randy. Perhaps it was just old age, she thought. They were an older couple when they adopted him. She relaxed then. That had to be it. They simply got old and passed away naturally.

"Hey, Bones," Booth said, coming in with Hank hanging off his leg, growling.

"Yes?" she asked, stifling a laugh.

"Aubrey invited me out tonight. You mind if I go?"

"Of course not. Tell him I said hi."

"I will. This smells amazing," he said, hovering over the stove. Hank was proceeding to bite at his leg, still pretending to be a puppy.

"Don't touch," she scolded, swatting his hand as he went to snag a piece of meat from the frying pan.

"Tacos?" Christine asked hopefully, coming into the kitchen too.

"You guessed it," Brennan smiled.

"Yay!"

"All right, Hank," Booth said, hauling him up into the air and making him shriek. "Daddy's leg is getting tired now."

"Awwww!"

"It's time to get cleaned up for dinner," Brennan instructed. Christine hurried away with Hank on her heels. Booth pulled her in for a deep kiss once they were gone.

"What was that for?" she asked, looking at him.

"Just because," he shrugged. He gave her another kiss before their children returned.

"I want cheese on mine," Christine said, getting up onto her chair.

"Me too!" Hank chimed in. Booth moved to help her get everything ready. Brennan looked at her family then, knowing that she would never be able to survive if something happened to them.

...

 _February 5, 1955_

 _It finally happened. Ruth is my girlfriend! I think it was starting to happen after Christmas, but these past few weeks really helped it along. That and I did something very romantic. I took her on a sleigh ride. That's right. I managed to get that mule to sit still long enough to hitch him up and kept him from killing us both. That bugger has been testy with me ever since Randy got him for me. There was a moment where he tried to bite through his harness, but we got that sorted out. Between the snow falling and the stars, Ruth decided she wanted to be my girlfriend. It was perfect._


	9. Chapter 9

_February 14, 1955_

 _What to do for Valentine's Day for a girl you just started dating? I've been wracking my brain for days, and I've come up with nothing. It was Beth who saved the day._

 _"Here," she said, handing me a box._

 _"What is it?" I asked._

 _"Just open it," she smiled. I did so, and I found a very lovely handmade scarf in there plus a photo of the two of us from our sleigh ride in a frame._

 _"How did you...?"_

 _"Know that you wouldn't have anything? It was a lucky guess. Randy used to have trouble too," she finished, her eyes twinkling at me._

 _"Well, you really saved my butt," I told her, giving her a hug._

 _"Don't forget the flowers," she said as I walked up here to my room._

 _Right. Flowers._

 _Later_

 _It turns out Ruth is more of a tom boy than I realized. She loved the gifts, but she laughed when she saw the flowers. Seeing that I was a little crushed, she explained that she's not the traditional type, and that I could try again next year. I asked her what would have been a better alternative, and she suggested either a really good book to read or a poem that I wrote. Now, I'm not so good at poetry, but I understand what she means when she says she wants something from the heart. I'll do better next time._

 _May 11, 1955_

 _It is Randy and Beth's anniversary today. 38 years of marriage. I couldn't help but watch them do a slow dance in the living room. I was coming down for a glass of water, and I saw Randy twirling her around before holding her close. Maybe it's because I lost my parents, or maybe it's because I've found love myself, but seeing them like that, it made me tear up a bit. They are truly in love, and if I'm going to imitate anyone's ability to be in love for that long, I want to imitate theirs._

 _June 29, 1955_

 _Steve is here! It's a surprise visit for the end of the school year. He's here for an entire week. I won't be writing much, but just know that I will be having a ton of fun!_

 _July 6, 1955_

 _It's always hard to see Steve go. He promised to keep in touch more often, and I know he will keep that promise. Ruth came over because she knew I'd be feeling low after he left. They hit it off well too, and Ruth even managed to prank him once. If you know Steve, you'll know he isn't easily pranked. It's another long summer ahead, one where I turn 15 at the end. Time seems to fly by so easily here on the farm. I've also come to the end of this book. Time to start a new one!_

...

Brennan closed the journal and smiled. So far so good. No one had died, and no more tragedies had happened. She was itching to see what was coming next for her father, but she had to get back to reality. It was bedtime for the kids, and Booth was out with Aubrey. She helped Hank brush his teeth and read them stories, making them giggle at her antics. She smiled, grateful for things being at peace right now. Hank had gone to sleep fairly quickly, so it was just Christine awake now.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Christine?"

"I miss Grandpa."

"I miss him too," Brennan said, rubbing Christine's back.

"Sometimes I feel him with me," she went on.

"Yea?"

"Uh huh. Sometimes I think, what would Grandpa do? That's kind of why I hit Travis. Grandpa always protected all of us, and Travis was saying bad things about you, so I did it. I know it was wrong."

"It was, but we've gotten past it," Brennan reassured her. She almost laughed out loud. Trust her daughter to have Max's protective streak in her.

"Sleep well," Brennan said, kissing her daughter's head before leaving.

"Good night, Mommy."

Brennan closed the door behind her and leaned against it, feeling fresh tears spring to her eyes. She wished she could go back in time and realize Max's symptoms before it was too late. That way she wouldn't have to see her daughter experience such heartache.

...

 _December 24, 1955_

 _I know, I know, it's been a while. Honestly, I've been too busy with life to bother capturing it on paper. A year ago today, I was officially adopted. It's been one of the best years of my life. Ruth is still my girlfriend. We do so much together. I think Carl is jealous. He hasn't really talked to me much since we started dating, but I can tell it's bugging him that someone actually wants to date me and not him. Tomorrow, Beth and Randy are keeping it low key, just us and the farm. I've caught them whispering a few times, and they break apart as soon as I come into the room. I'm curious as to what they're up to. On another note, I've lit some candles in memory of my family. It still hurts to think about them, but they were a part of my life for over ten years. I get shivers sometimes when I remember how close I came to share the same fate as them if I hadn't run away._

 _December 25, 1955_

 _This is officially my favorite Christmas of all time (although I may have better ones in my future...you never know). Beth and Randy got me a puppy for Christmas! He's mine! I couldn't believe it when I opened the box and this little creature came flying out at me, tongue flailing all over my face. Randy figures he's a mixture of a black lab and a border collie. He has one ear that stays up while the other flops down. I have named him Rascal. When Ruth came over this afternoon, she was so jealous. She even said so. Rascal took to her very quickly, and the three of us had fun running through the snow. I had to pick Rascal up after a while, though, as he got very tired. He is just a little thing really. Maybe seven weeks old. His feet are way too big for him, which Randy said means he will be a fair size dog. I can't wait until we can go on adventures together without me having to lug him around._

 _February 5, 1956_

 _Am I romantic or what? For our one year anniversary, I took Ruth on a treasure hunt around town. I got the shopkeepers I know to help me out, and when she found me waiting on the snow covered bridge holding a single rose, she almost burst into tears. Then she punched me in the arm. Like I said, total tom boy, but I love it. Speaking of love, I'm thinking of telling Ruth I love her. I don't know if it's too soon, but I can't help but have that feeling towards her. She makes me feel like life is good, and I never want that feeling to go away. I don't know what I'd ever do without her._

...

"Thanks for this, Aubrey," Booth said. Aubrey waved his hand.

"No problem. It's nice to get out just us guys sometimes," he grinned.

"How is Karen?"

"She's great, really great. We're, um, taking it slow."

"That's good."

"It is. We don't want to rush into anything," Aubrey nodded. Booth sipped his beer, grinning at Aubrey. He was glad to have the guy in his life. He still missed Sweets like something fierce, and Aubrey would never replace him, but it was nice to have him around.

"I should get home," Booth said, setting down his now empty beer.

"Tickle the kids for me," Aubrey grinned.

"Will do. See you tomorrow," Booth responded, getting up and putting his coat on. He stepped outside into the rain, and he looked at his phone to see if Brennan had asked for anything. Seeing nothing, he started to walk to his car. He pulled out his keys when the voice spoke.

"Hey, Booth."

"Geez!" Booth yelped, seeing his brother in law standing there. "Russ!" He clutched his chest, feeling his heart rate go sky high.

"Sorry," Russ grinned. "Old habit."

"Don't ever do that again," Booth said.

"I can't promise that," Russ laughed.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, Tempe isn't answering my text messages or calls, so I figured I'd come see you and find out what was going on."

"She's been busy cleaning up Max's house."

"I could have helped..."

"She wanted to do it alone," Booth lied. He knew Brennan hadn't told her brother about the journals. He didn't want to rat her out.

"Is it all right if I come with you to see her?"

"What, are you afraid of her?" Booth teased.

"Sort of."

"All right. Get in," Booth said, opening the passenger door. Russ obliged. Booth sent a text to Brennan giving her a head's up that her brother was coming over. If he knew his wife, he knew she'd be running around trying to hide the journals. The image made him chuckle. He looked over at Russ, studying his brother in law. They hadn't seen much of each other, but they did try to keep in touch.

"It's funny," Russ said after a while. "I have days where I can go hours without thinking about him, and then I have days where I can't go five minutes without thinking about him."

"I know what you mean," Booth nodded.

"How's Tempe doing? I know she had issues with Dad, but they were close by the end, right?"

"Yea. She's hanging in there. The kids are a good distraction."

"I never thought he'd die like that," Russ sighed, rubbing his head with his hand. "I always imagined him going down in gunfire, not in a hospital bed."

"Don't say things like that in front of Bones," Booth warned.

"I won't. She doesn't talk to me about him," Russ said. "I wish she would."

Booth didn't reply. He knew that Brennan was dealing with the loss of her father in a way that was her own. He knew that when she was ready, she'd talk to Russ about it. He just hoped Russ wouldn't be too angry to find out his father had left behind a bunch of journals that his sister kept from him.

* * *

 **I know you all wish I would update faster. I'm really trying. It's just been a really rough past few months with ill relatives, work, and other things. Thanks for sticking with me.**

 ***Update: I've been made aware that not everyone is a fan of Aubrey and Karen, so please don't be upset with me. I didn't realize it wasn't a favorite relationship until now. I was just continuing from the end of the series with the assumption they were together and figured I should mention it, but don't worry, I will not be mentioning their relationship in the future chapters.**


	10. Chapter 10

**No, I haven't given up on this story. I just was trying to get into the mood to write it. You'll see why. Have some tissues handy.**

* * *

Brennan felt annoyed when she saw Russ enter the house. Booth gave her an apologetic look behind him as he closed the door.

"Hey, Tempe," Russ smiled.

"Hi, Russ."

"How are you?"

"Fine."

"Booth said you were going through Dad's stuff?" Russ asked, ignoring her flat tone. Booth went to the fridge for a beer and hid out of sight. He knew when his wife was going to get into an argument.

"I am."

"I want to help."

"It's fine. I've got it under control."

"He was my Dad too, Temperance," Russ said quietly. Brennan stared at him, arms crossed.

"Where were you when he died?" she asked. "Where were you the last seven years of his life? You were never here, Russ."

"I had Amy and the girls," Russ started.

"You still could have come to see us," Brennan cut him off.

"You're right. I'm a schmuck. I'm sorry. I should have been here."

"Yes, you should have."

"I really want to help with the house. Let's call it my way of apologizing for my absence," Russ said. Brennan sighed. She knew he had full right to be there.

"Fine. Come with me tomorrow."

"Is it all right if I crash here tonight?"

"Whatever," Brennan said, gesturing to the couch where Booth had stopped mid sip of his beer.

"Right now?" Booth asked.

"You do what you want, but I'm going to bed," Brennan said. Russ and Booth watched her walk away.

"Well, that was pleasant," Russ commented.

"She's right," Booth said, getting up. "You should have visited more."

Russ hung his head as Booth passed. He knew he should have. It was why he felt so much guilt right now.

...

 _March 8, 1956_

 _Rascal and I went into town to get some groceries for Beth. I've never seen a dog sit and wait patiently outside a building for someone the way Rascal waits for me. I don't even have to tie him up. Mr. Goodwin gave me a bone for him. I think that's the main reason Rascal comes with me. Everyone in town spoils him with treats. What puzzles me the most is that he can pack away so much food, but he doesn't gain any weight. He's my best bud, though._

 _May 1, 1956_

 _May Day. I thought about Mom all day. I'm starting to forget what she looks like. If I concentrate really hard, I can see her eyes and her smile. I lost the only photo I had of my family, and I hate myself for not being able to find it. I feel bad that out of them all, I miss Mom the most. My heart hurts._

 _June 20, 1956_

 _Another summer. Time seems to fly on this farm. I'll be 16 in August. Randy has been teaching me how to drive around the farm. I have to say that I really like driving. Rascal does too. He sits in the box of the truck and lets his tongue fly every which way. How he doesn't get it covered in bugs I'll never know._

 _Ruth and I have been going on biking adventures. It's been a little hard lately to not get physical with her. Our attraction for each other is intense. She wants to wait, though, and I respect that. I'd do anything for her._

 _July 4, 1956_

 _Beth's apple pie is settling well in my stomach right now. We are heading out to see fireworks soon. Ruth is going to join us. I just wanted to say that for once, I feel completely happy. Maybe that's wrong because of my tragic past, but I can't help but think Mom would want me to be happy, so I'm doing it for her._

...

Brennan woke up with the journal on her face. Groggy, she sat up. She realized she must have fallen asleep reading. She put it on the nightstand and looked over at the sleeping Booth. She smiled. When Max said he'd do anything for Ruth, she knew exactly what he meant. Then she remembered Russ was on her couch. Sighing, she got up. When she got to the kitchen, the kids were already there with Russ. They were whispering excitedly with each other.

"What's going on?" she asked, surprising them.

"Aw, no!" Christine cried. "You were supposed to stay in bed. We are making breakfast."

"Uncle Russ made eggs," Hank said proudly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Brennan apologized. "You can still take Daddy his, though."

"Okay!" Christine beamed. She took the plate full of eggs and toast towards their bedroom.

"Thanks for letting me stay," Russ said when they were alone.

"Be ready in an hour," Brennan replied, going to join her family for breakfast.

...

Russ looked around the house and felt sad. This was his father's last home. It seemed small.

"If there's anything you want, take it," Brennan instructed. She set to work with the rest. Russ looked over some of Max's shirts and selected a few sweaters he wanted to keep. They still smelled like Max.

"The girls want to come visit," Russ said.

"So bring them," Brennan responded.

"Are you going to be ice queen all day?" Russ challenged. Brennan set down the books she was holding and looked at him.

"I'm sorry. I just have a hard time doing this, and you being here isn't helping."

"Why? I said I was sorry for not being here more."

"You say that a lot."

"Oh, God, Tempe stop," Russ snapped. "I'm here now, okay? Let's just get along."

"Fine," Brennan nodded. She didn't really know why she was being so cold to her brother. She guessed it was because she couldn't be angry at her father anymore for dying on her, so he'd have to do.

...

 _August 13, 1956_

 _I got my driver's license! I felt really badass driving around with Rascal hanging out the window. Randy didn't appreciate the ball of fur in his lap the whole way home I don't think. I'm a little worried about Randy lately. He hasn't been looking well. Beth has taken him to the doctor recently, but he keeps saying he's fine._

 _"Old age," he joked. "It gets everyone eventually."_

 _I know he's older, but I still worry._

 _Ruth came to celebrate my birthday. Beth made her famous chocolate cake. I had to rescue it from Rascal, who takes any chance he can get to eating human food. He's a crafty pup. I always make sure he doesn't have easy access, but he's up on that table without batting an eye, so I'm not sure how he does it._

 _Sixteen. I feel like I'm becoming a man. Mom would have been so proud to have been here today. God I miss her._

 _November 4, 1956_

 _Winter is setting in. I'm not ready for the snow. It feels like it lasts forever. The worst part is the cold. I hate being cold._

 _November 30, 1956_

 _The best day ever today. Randy, Beth, and I had a huge snowball fight. It started between them, but I got involved, which turned it into an all out war. Rascal tried to help by running interference, and he knocked Randy over in his haste. Beth and I took this opportunity to slam him with snow. He was laughing and trying to get up, but we kept him down. Eventually he begged for a truce, so we gave it to him. Beth got us warmed up with hot chocolate after. I keep feeling as though I'm in a dream. This is my family now, and I don't know what I'd do without them._

 _December 25, 1956_

 _Another lovely Christmas. The three of us and Rascal had our supper and then played cards by the fire. Ruth was away with her family, so I didn't get to see her. She did call, though. Beth teases me about when I'm going to ask her to marry me. I'm only sixteen! She said in her day it was the prime time to wed. I think I still have some time left._

 _March 2, 1957_

 _I haven't written in a while because I don't know what to say. Everything got shattered early January. I don't think our lives will ever be the same._

 _Randy's dead._

 _March 3, 1957_

 _I couldn't finish yesterday. It hurt so much. I'll try to get it down as best as I can._

 _I went out to help with the cows when I noticed they were distressed. I hurried into the barn, and I found Randy face down on the ground. I rolled him over, but he wasn't breathing. He was cold. I didn't know how long he had been in there since I had just gotten home from school. I ran to get Beth, who screamed when she saw him. My heart broke as she fell to her knees, clutching him to her chest and crying "no" over and over again. The police came with the medics. They took him away. They later said he had had a heart attack. Beth knew he wasn't well, which was why she had gone healthy with her cooking since the summer, but none of us expected this._

 _I don't know what we're going to do. Beth and I kind of pass each other like ghosts in the halls. I don't know what to say to her to make her feel better, and she can barely talk. I am still in shock, I think. Randy is dead. I can't believe it. All I keep thinking of is the last thing he said to me. It was the morning before he died._

 _"Max," he said. "You're a good son. I've never been more proud of anyone in my life. I think you'll do great things."_

 _"Why do you sound like you're dying?" I had joked, not having a clue._

 _"When you're my age, you never know when God's going to come for you," Randy replied. "I just wanted to tell you that."_

 _"Are you sick?" I asked._

 _"I haven't been feeling the best, but with Beth's cooking, I think I'll get better," he smiled. I felt worried, but I had no idea I'd never talk to him again._

 _What the hell are we going to do?_

 _..._

Brennan was openly crying when she closed the book. It wasn't fair that her father had Randy ripped away from him like that. Why did her father have such rotten luck?

"What's wrong?" Booth asked, coming into the bedroom and seeing her crying.

"Randy died," she answered.

"Oh," Booth said. He felt bad for Max. It was so unfair.

"I know he said he had no family. I just assumed they died of old age."

"These things happen, Bones," Booth said, pulling her into his arms.

"I know I lost my parents when I was 15 and never knew what happened to them until later, but I can't imagine the repeated trauma of this that he went through. To get close to people only to lose them over and over again."

"In my opinion, he's with them all again," Booth said. "I know you have different beliefs, but I truly believe he's with them right now."

"I'd like to think that," Brennan sniffed, wiping her eyes. "For his sake."

Booth continued to hold his wife and stroke her hair. He felt dread for what the journals were going to keep bringing to her.

* * *

 **Damn that was hard. Anyway, if you have time to leave a review, I'd appreciate it.**


	11. Chapter 11

**I apologize for leaving this story for so long. I just got wrapped up in everything else, and then I lost focus of where I was even going with this story until I reread all my chapters and remembered. I hope to keep updating it more regularly. I hope you guys are still interested in this story. I understand if you're not since it's been so long. Anyway, it's gonna probably make you cry again. We're delving into the reason why Max turned to the life of crime.**

* * *

Brennan avoided the journals for a bit after reading about Randy's death. She felt as though it was a death she had experienced too even though she knew that was ridiculous. Russ had come and gone a few times since, and Brennan knew she couldn't keep being short with him. It wasn't his fault their father died. She was doing some cleaning while Hank attempted to help with the dust pan in his hand when Booth came home with Christine from school. Brennan could tell he had something he wanted to tell her, so she encouraged Hank to go see if his sister would play with him while she went to talk to Booth.

"What happened?" she asked Booth when they were alone in the kitchen.

"Her teacher finally told me what happened," he answered. "How Travis heard what he did. She said he wasn't willing to share until recently."

"Oh? How?"

"Gloria was talking about it to Tony. It would appear that you helped put one of her friends away, so she's a little pissed at you for it," Booth said, crossing his arms.

"Who? Who did I put away?" Brennan asked, frowning.

"I don't know. The teacher said Travis didn't hear the name of the friend, but apparently she was blowing off some steam because Travis was bragging about how smart Christine was, and Gloria vented to Tony and said those horrible things about you because she's jealous and angry that Christine is smarter than their son. She knew we weren't married when we had Christine because you were pregnant during her friend's case and had no wedding ring on."

"She sounds like a tiresome woman," Brennan noted.

"Well, Travis and Christine seem to be buddies again, so I don't think it's affecting Travis too much," Booth said.

Brennan did not like this Gloria woman at all. She hoped she would never have to run into her again.

"You're thinking about punching her in the face, aren't you?" Booth asked, grinning.

"No," Brennan lied. He laughed out loud.

"Sure," he teased. He hugged her tightly, and she couldn't help but laugh a little with him. He knew her so well.

...

"What is this?" Angela asked the next day. She was over at Brennan's place visiting. Hank was out with Hodgins. Brennan looked to see Angela holding her father's journal.

"It's nothing," Brennan answered, snatching it back. Angela raised a brow at her.

"Is it your fantasy journal or something?" she asked, teasing.

"No," Brennan shook her head. She gripped the journal tightly. She couldn't bring herself to read anymore of her father's pain right now, but she left it sitting out as a reminder that it was still there, waiting for her.

"Well, what is it?" Angela asked, laughing.

"I don't want to say."

"Really? Now I'm even more intrigued," Angela said. Brennan didn't know why she hadn't told Angela about the journals. She knew her friend would understand and even be fascinated. Brennan just didn't want to reveal her father's secrets to anyone else other than Booth. She knew eventually Russ would read them, but he was family.

"They're really nothing, and I'd like to not talk about it any further," Brennan said.

"Okay," Angela agreed, letting it go. She knew it was something important to Brennan, though, but she also knew her friend would tell her when the time was right. Brennan put the journal away, and they started chatting about Michael Vincent and Christine and other things. Together they tried to figure out who Gloria's friend was, but they couldn't. Brennan herself forgot about the journal for a while, and it was nice.

...

Booth was at his desk when someone knocked on his door. He looked up, frowning. He did not recognize the man standing there.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"I was told I could find Dr. Brennan's husband here?" he asked.

"That would be me."

"Perfect," the man grinned. "May I?" He gestured to the chair in front of Booth's desk.

"Sure," Booth agreed. He was cautious, unsure of what this man wanted.

"I bet you're wondering who I am," the man said, getting comfortable in his chair.

"Kind of," Booth admitted.

"Well, when I heard about Max's death, I debated about whether or not I should come out of the woodwork, but it just kept eating at me, you know? So here I am."

"And you are?" Booth asked.

"Oh, right," the man laughed. "I'm Dave. Dave Getty."

...

Brennan tapped the journal with her fingers. Even though she was afraid to read more, she had to know what was going on. She flipped it open to where Max started writing again after he'd written about Randy dying.

 _September 4, 1957_

 _I didn't go back to school. Beth didn't even put up a fight. I'm running this farm now, and she knows she can't do it alone. Ruth was disappointed, but she also understood. I have to say, I haven't quite been myself since Randy died. I know Ruth understands and is trying to be there for me, but I feel so lost that I don't even know how to be me anymore. Our relationship is kind of on a break, and it was my idea. I told her she could date someone else, but she told me to not be so stupid and to realize that she wasn't going anywhere. I don't know why she's staying. I'm afraid to ask._

 _Rascal sits by Randy's chair every morning, waiting for the treat that's never going to come. I wish he'd stop. I know it was a routine for him, but it hurts to see him still have hope that Randy is going to come back. Randy is never going to come back._

 _Beth cries every day. I know she tries to hide it from me, but I see and hear it. Sometimes I go to comfort her, and sometimes I leave her alone. She lost her greatest love, and I don't know what to do or say to make her feel better. I don't think anything could._

 _October 9, 1957_

 _You're not gonna believe who walked up our driveway today. I was feeding the cows when I heard this whistle, and I had to stop and collect myself because I had not heard that whistle in a lot of years. Rascal started to bark and run towards where the noise came from, and I turned to see my old friend, Dave, standing there looking at me with that stupid smile of his on his face._

 _"You look like shit," he commented._

 _"You still look like an ass," I retorted back. Then we both laughed. I stopped quickly because I hadn't laughed in God knows how long. It felt strange and almost like a betrayal to our grief that hangs over this place like a heavy cloud._

 _"How the hell are ya?" Dave asked after he came over and man hugged me. I felt a little overwhelmed seeing him again. I hadn't seen him since before my family was murdered by my father. I wondered if he knew._

 _"Not gonna lie, it's been tough," I answered._

 _"Ruth told me," Dave admitted._

 _"You still talk to her?"_

 _"Yea. We write about once a month. We agreed to keep in touch when I moved away. Congratulations on being her boyfriend, by the way. I never saw that coming."_

 _I didn't comment on this. I didn't know how to feel that Ruth kept in contact with Dave and hadn't told me._

 _"Come on," Dave said. "Let's go for a drive."_

 _So we did._

 _Dave told me he was signing up to go to Vietnam. Now, Dave is two years older than me, but he had been held back in school two grades, which was why we were in classes together back in the day. He just turned 18, and he's ready to go fight. I have to admit, I am scared for him. We had a good talk today._

 _"Ruth told you where to find me?" I asked him as he drove. He sucked on his cigarette before answering. I never thought he'd smoke. He was always so fussy about germs and being healthy before._

 _"Yea. To be honest, I was going to come a while ago, but after hearing about your adoptive dad, I figured you needed your space."_

 _"I'm sure she told you way before that," I scoffed._

 _"I am a lousy friend, okay? Let me be the first to admit that," Dave laughed. "But I'm here now."_

 _"Yea, to say goodbye."_

 _"Thanks for the confidence," he snorted._

 _"It's Vietnam, Dave. I've heard stories."_

 _"I still have a bit of luck in me," Dave said, shaking his finger at me. "You'll see."_

 _We spent the afternoon together reminiscing about old times, and I was sad to see him go when the day was over. I said this last time, and I will say it again. I feel like I will never see Dave again._

...

"Dave Getty," Booth repeated.

"I don't suppose ol' Max ever talked about me," Dave mused. "We were sort of friends, but I knew I got on his nerves a lot. I whined a lot. I was the oldest kid in the class with no one to be friends with, and Max stuck with me despite it all."

"When is the last time you saw Max?" Booth asked.

"A year ago actually," Dave answered, rubbing his chin. "It took a lot of years for me to track him down again, especially with his name changing and all. It was a fluke that I even found him again."

"He never mentioned you."

"I figured. I'm sorry he's dead, though. I thought he'd outlive us all. It seemed to be the way with him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, first his family, then his adoptive parents, then Ruth...I mean, God how much pain can one person get dished in their life?" Dave asked. "Everyone he loved just got ripped away from him. I was surprised to see that he didn't just off himself you know?"

"He had Russ and Temperance," Booth pointed out.

"I discovered that, yes. I didn't know he had kids. He'd hang on for them, I know. He was always a loyal kind of guy."

"Temperance would really like to meet you I think," Booth said. He refrained from calling her Bones to save the confusion.

"Yea?"

"Yea. She found Max's old journals, and you were mentioned in them a lot in the beginning."

"Shit, really?!" Dave hooted. "Oh yea! I think I still have mine! Our teacher made us write in them every day. I stopped when we no longer had to do it of course."

"Temperance has learned a lot from them."

"She would," Dave nodded gravely. "His life was like a damn drama with more low points then high points."

"So when did he turn to crime?" Booth asked, curious. Dave rubbed at his face again.

"Honestly? I didn't even know until we talked a year ago. I asked him the same question, and his answer was: after Beth."

"After Beth what?"

"Died."

"Oh."

"It was devastating, you know? Beth didn't deserve to go out like that, and it was like it was Max's final straw, you know? Being a good person wasn't working out for him, so he decided to go dark."

Booth swallowed. He wondered just when it all started and when Beth died and how.

...

Brennan skimmed forward through the next couple of journals. They didn't say much. Max talked about the farm. He talked about Rascal. He wrote how Rascal then got hit by a car and died. Brennan took every loss of her father's as a hit to her heart. She wondered how her father even got up every morning. Max wrote that he and Ruth were on again off again for a bit. Then Ruth was going away to college. Max hadn't finished his high school degree, and he was still working on the farm. Even though Brennan knew that Max and Ruth got married, she still felt on edge reading about how their relationship was so fragile. Then, she reached an entry that made her heart almost stop.

 _July 23, 1959_

 _I am on the run. I don't know where to go or what to do, but I'm just running. I have left it all behind me. I didn't even leave Ruth a note. I don't even know how to describe what happened, but for Beth's sake and memory, I have to. I just have to._

 _I came home two days ago to find the barn on fire. I ran to start to fight it when I saw the windows smashed of our home. I just knew something was wrong. I ran inside, and I found Beth on the floor bleeding. Someone had worked her over pretty good, and she was left for dead. I picked her up in my arms, not believing that this was happening. Beth did not deserve this. She is a good person. Was. Shit. She was a good person._

 _I am having a hard time focusing right now, but I have to try._

 _"I love you, my son," she said to me as she started to choke. I cried and said her name over and over again, begging her not to leave me. She touched my face, and then she was gone. Enraged, I set her down gently and took in what had happened around me in the house. It was obviously a robbery. I went to where Randy kept his gun, and I loaded it and went outside. I had a hunch that the robber was still there, and I was right, but there were two of them. They were loading their car behind the burning barn when I approached them, and I didn't even stop to think._

 _Reader, I shot them both in cold blood. Then I ran._

 _August 2, 1959_

 _I'm hiding in a motel. I keep moving from motel to motel, waiting for the police to come find me. I know they have to know it was me. They probably assume I went mad. Well, I was mad. Now I'm just lost, sad, and empty. I lost Beth. I wasn't supposed to lose Beth. I hope she's with Randy. I hope Randy isn't disappointed with the way I turned out. I'm not special, and he shouldn't be proud of me. I don't know how I could have ever thought I could be different. I am 18, and my life is in shambles. My father's genes are running through my veins. I'm no different than him now, and that makes me very sick inside. You'll have to excuse me. I'm going to go be sick for real just for thinking about it all._

...

Brennan's hands shook as she lowered the journal. Her father's first murders were to avenge the death of his adoptive mother, Beth. Was this where it all went wrong? It had to be. Brennan couldn't stomach anymore. How Ruth found Max after this and became involved in the world of crime with him, she didn't know. She assumed Max would fill in the blanks the more he wrote, but she couldn't read it right now. She dropped her head into her hands and started to cry. Why couldn't her father have had something go right for once in his life?

"Hey, Bones?" Booth called from the door. She looked up at him through her teary vision.

"Yea?" she managed to say.

"There's someone who wants to meet you," he said. She wiped at her eyes quickly. She wished he had given her a head's up about company coming.

"You okay?" Booth asked, seeing her face now.

"Yes. I just read some more terrible things that my father endured," Brennan answered.

"Oh. I was hoping you hadn't gotten to that part yet," Booth said.

"Wait, how do you know what I'm talking about?"

Booth hesitated before standing aside to let the man behind him come in.

"Temperance, meet Dave Getty, your father's old friend from school."


End file.
